Myriad of Illusions
by Tony Samuels
Summary: At end of Harry's First Year, Dumbledore was considerate enough to sate the curiosity of a bed-ridden Boy Who Lived. But curiosity is a dangerous thing and Harry Potter had a knack for finding himself in dangerous situations. What Dumbledore never guessed was that the one simple question might lead to an adventure that shakes the very foundations of magic itself. Intelligent!Harry.
1. Broken Reality

**There will be no bashing in this fic and Dumbledore is not a dark lord in disguise, withholding information to wreak havoc upon the wizarding world. His character may have minor differences in contrast to the canon Dumbledore.**

 **The pairing will be Harry/Daphne/Fleur.**

 **Disclaimer: Destiny is like fog. It drifts in the way the winds of fate blow and only a fool believes that he can determine its direction.**

 **I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

" _How did I get the Stone out of the mirror?'_

" _Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone — find it, but not use it — would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes…Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them — but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?"_

 _Dumbledore smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, "Alas! Ear wax!"_

But Harry was not fooled by the subtle diversion of topics and his thoughts revolved around the brilliant tactic that Dumbledore had employed. The immense curiosity that he had quelled to fit in the wizarding world and find friends of his own for the first time in his miserable life, lashed out from its dormant state with unmatched vigor.

For the second time in his life, Harry's emerald eyes were alight with unrestrained intellect and inquisitiveness. The first time being when he gazed upon the Hogwarts castle in its majestic glory. The curiosity had slowly but steadily ebbed away when he tried to fade away from the sight of the people to escape the confinements of his glory and fame. To evade the gaze of the people who expected a hero and a prodigy but found an abused and inept child in his place.

"Are you implying that Voldemort wouldn't have got the stone even if I hadn't interfered?" Harry concluded, his eyes downcast at the realization. _'Of course._ _The Headmaster_ _would never leave anything to chance.'_

The grimace from the bean on Dumbledore's visage abated for a moment as he tried to peer over his half-moon spectacles to glance at the bright eyes of Harry. He shifted his blue eyes to gaze out of the door, probably to make sure that there weren't any eavesdroppers and promptly conjured a chair with a flick of his wand. Before Harry could ponder over the sudden appearance of the wand, Dumbledore sat on the comfy looking chair and stared at Harry for a few moments. Harry stared back, somehow feeling that meeting the eyes of the Headmaster would help him to make his point but even with his new found determination, his fists clenched around the hospital sheets in anxiety at the sudden scrutiny from the Headmaster.

Dumbledore finally gave a tentative nod, as though deeming him worthy of his time and Harry released the breath that he didn't know he was holding.

"You underestimate", Dumbledore started but gave a sudden wince and popped out the bean from his mouth before vanishing it with another flick of his wand.

"You underestimate the value of your valor, Harry. There are not a lot of people who can face Voldemort and come out alive and express disappointment after the fact, much less, guilt. Voldemort is not hailed as the greatest dark wizard born in a century because of his evil deeds or his loyal entourage."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, his eyes distant as he reminisced about the regretful past. "Though it pains me to say, Tom Riddle or as he is known in the recent times, Voldemort, was one of the many students who roamed these Halls just like you and I did, and for a fact, he was hailed as the brightest wizard to ever grace this school in the past century."

"What!" Harry could not suppress the shout that threatened to escape his mouth. The image of a pale-skinned, slit-nosed, red-eyed boy running through the corridors in Hogwarts uniform because he was late to class disturbed him to such an extent that he had to blink a few times to get rid of it.

Dumbledore released a throaty chuckle. "Yes, my boy. Though it might come as a surprise for almost everyone in the wizarding world, it is true that the feared Dark Lord was a normal student, albeit highly charming and had an intellect that rivaled those of the professors themselves. It seems that he has altered his appearance to such an extent that he is unrecognizable to anyone but a selected few who truly knew him before his days of villainy."

"Ah, but we are diverging from the main issue", Dumbledore gently stroked his lengthy beard as he sighed. "What I want to convey is that though my tactics may appear fool proof to those around me, even I cannot argue that I am as fallible as any other mortal and Voldemort is someone who ascended to greatness by thriving on such weaknesses. I, myself, cannot say for sure that he couldn't have gotten past the web of illusions surrounding the mirror and if what I inferred is true, he almost did."

Harry did not the answer the underlying question regarding what had happened down there. Though it seemed that the Headmaster came to his own conclusions and from what he heard, it's accurate. It was a humbling thought that Voldemort could infiltrate the safest place in Britain without being found for an entire year and almost succeeded in nullifying the protections set by the Headmaster himself. Now that he thought about it, the entire scenario appeared to be a foolish action on his part as it not only placed him in danger but also the lives of his best friends. He simply voiced that. "Now that I knew who was behind it, I feel rather stupid for simply running head along into something I had no clue about."

"Bravery is the kindest word for stupidity", Dumbledore uttered with a genial smile and Harry nearly cringed in shame at the blatant ridicule. "In that sense, even I can be considered as stupid but alas, this world has a need for stupid people like us for the peace to prevail. If no one has ever told you, my boy, that you are a brave and honorable person, then let me be the first."

If Harry was feeling any less exhausted, he would have blushed like a bride on her wedding day. So Harry had to settle with a shy smile and a distinct feeling of pride, along with the thought that this topic was far too close to comfort. "Professor, do those...um, protections around the mirror come under charms work?"

It took a few agonizing moments for the Headmaster to answer. "I was hoping we could avoid that discussion", Dumbledore exhaled heavily, though he did not seem to be drowning in guilt as he did a few moments ago. "But well, I guess I can tell you enough to sate your curiosity. Consider this as an apology for not answering your previous question about the reason why Voldemort tried to kill you."

Harry tried his utmost to hide his glee at that statement and considering that Dumbledore did not comment further, it was likely that he succeeded.

"There are a few branches of magic that while cannot be considered as Dark, they do not fall under the light category too. They are far too securely anchored to the gray region that whether they are dark or light depends entirely on the _person who wields them_."

Dumbledore stressed the last past and Harry nodded fervently in return. If caution was what the Headmaster desired, then there was no reason for Harry to ignore the wise advice.

"They are three of such forbidden magics: Mind magics, Rituals and the most dangerous of all, the Reality distortion magics or commonly referred to as Illusion magics. Even in the modern era, Mind arts and Rituals are frequently practiced in the Pureblood families and though the extent to which they are being exploited has thankfully declined, they still do not come under the branch of Lost Magics or Ancient Magics."

"But, Reality Distortion magics? They are an obscure art lost to the sands of time but there are still a few sorcerers who practice that art and I so happened to be a protegee of two of such practitioners."

"The Flamels?" Harry guessed and Dumbledore appeared startled for a moment before he began smiling widely. "It seems that someone was hiding his intellect all along. I wish that you do not find the need to undermine yourself in your classes any further and Merlin knows, Miss Granger needs some competition."

Although Harry ducked his head out of embarrassment, he accorded the Headmaster with a slight incline of his head. "Very good, then", Dumbledore nodded to himself. "Yes. The Flamels. These arts were not out of practice due to unavailability of tomes of knowledge or the lack of practitioners but because these magics consume the wielder entirely. Mind magics may be an important tool to those who are prudent enough to stay within the boundaries, they lead to the instability of mind of those individuals who exploit them carelessly. They devour the sanity of any individual who is weak enough to fall to the temptations of abusing its power."

"The Ritual magics entice the individual through a promise of unimaginable power and not a few people lost their lives by delving too deep into its secrets. As the muggle saying goes, Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Am I right?"

Harry could only nod in return. "It's perfectly apt for elucidating the immeasurable number of dangers involving Ritual Magics."

"Illusion magics... They bring the worst of these two arts into play and any witch or wizard who is foolish enough to believe that they can command these magics to their will, they are bound to perish. You cannot control reality as you wish, Harry. The people won't even realize that they are lost until they perceive the claws of Death itself on their shoulders."

"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live", Harry parroted and the apprehensive frown on the Headmaster's face vanished.

"Ah, you remember", Dumbledore beamed, with his sapphire blue eyes twinkling like Christmas lights. "But I believe that it's prudent to explain one such encounter where I witnessed the true horrors of Illusions magics. There was a wizard, Harry. Astonishingly brilliant one at that. I have already met him a year ago at a conference for Alchemists and he was one of the dignitaries who was awarded a distinguished research scholar award for his discovery of phase transition in the process of multi-layered Rune transfiguration."

Harry drew a blank as he tried to comprehend what the Headmaster had just spouted and at his scrunched up eyebrows, Dumbledore waved his hand. "Do not mind the musings of an old man, my boy. That is something even the scholars usually do not understand."

"Now where was I? Yes, brilliant individual. At that time, I had no idea that he was dabbling in the art of Reality Distortion but after a year had passed, I had seen him once again. Oblivious to the world around him and slowly dying. I still remember his answer to a question I posed, 'The illusion has become my reality. Who are you to say otherwise?'"

The hospital wing was eerily silent as the two wizards pondered over the topic of conversation. In a way, the Headmaster had merely informed him of the dangers of the magic instead of explaining what the art itself was. It was definitely a deliberate action on the Headmaster's part but after all this, Harry knew that he couldn't blame the Headmaster for not divulging the secrets of some lost art. It might be a crime for all he knew. But one thing was certain; he was inexplicably intrigued by what he heard and although he would surely exercise caution, at least for the sake of the Headmaster who believed in him, it didn't mean that he would not pursue his interests. Above all, it's only natural of him to rush after the danger.

"Now there are only seven people in the world who are proficient in all three of these forbidden arts and..."

"Voldemort is one of them", Harry finished and the peculiar thing was, it only hardened his resolve to pursue his goal.

"Yes. Now do you understand why your intervention helped in foiling the plans of the Dark Lord?" Dumbledore asked, with his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. Harry had no idea how the Headmaster's eyes were glowing like lanterns in the dark but he merely chalked it up as one of the forbidden arts. After all, it was damn unsettling.

Before Harry could answer, Madam Pomfrey rushed into the Hospital wing with that stern gaze of hers and whatever Harry was about to say, it was lost to the wind.

"You've outstayed your welcome, Professor Dumbledore", Pomfrey remarked the moment she reached his bed and Dumbledore's only answer was a hearty laugh. 'Maybe he did lose his mind and was not aware of it', Harry mused.

"I apologize, poppy. I was simply educating a student."

"Your only excuse is that you are the Headmaster of this school", Pomfrey retorted and Harry had to wonder if the Headmaster had no authority over the matron. Her tone certainly reinforced his theory.

Dumbledore turned to Harry and added a final passing remark. "Remember, Harry. Humans have a knack for choosing precisely the things that are detrimental to them. For what it's worth, in the end, your choices are what defines you."

With that puzzling remark, the Headmaster strode out of the room while whistling to a song that was probably as old as him, leaving Harry with a myriad of conflicting thoughts. Well, all in good time.

* * *

Harry was discharged from the Hospital wing much earlier than he had anticipated; probably because he was complaining all throughout the day about the injustice and Madam Pomfrey finally decided that if he was healthy enough to whine like a petulant child then he was healthy enough to get discharged.

But instead of dashing straight to his friends, he took a little detour to procure his invisibility cloak. He wanted to obtain an object that wouldn't leave his thoughts since the chat with the Headmaster and it would be extremely helpful if no one caught him in the act.

The third-floor corridor was still creepy as hell but after facing a freaking three-headed dog and the Dark Lord himself, the shadows did not frighten him. Much. The door to the room where the Cerebus had resided was blasted out of its hinges – probably the handiwork of the Headmaster – and luckily, the three headed dog was evidently out on a tour as the room was glaringly empty. The trapdoor was unscathed and Harry wisely cast a cushioning charm before jumping down the hole. His march to the final chamber was uninterrupted but he did pause at a few places to think back on their adventure. He warily entered the desolate room, his gaze drifting from one corner to other as though Voldemort might jump at him at any moment.

With the blood rushing through his veins, he crouched down on the wrecked stony floor but not before glancing back one more time out of unease. The floor was littered with broken shards of the mirror, while some parts were scorched due the spells Quirrel fired and Harry carefully held one of the glass shards in hand. Even in its broken state, the mirror was working perfectly, proved by the happy couple in the mirror who were watching him with such love that Harry had to struggle to abate the tears that were threatening to fall. Dangerous indeed.

After pocketing seven of such remarkable pieces, which he hoped that the headmaster would not notice, he rose to his feet. He had no idea of why he felt that he should procure these shards but he was sure that this mirror was definitely related to the reality distortion magics he had heard about.

Just like his invisibility cloak.

After everything he had witnessed, it was not hard to deduce that his cloak and the mirror of Erised were one of such artifacts that might help him in his pursuit of learning the forbidden magic. His cloak could render him completely invisible and sometimes, he had a nagging doubt in his mind that his cloak could accomplish much more than simply hiding him from sight.

The fact that the mirror could store a tangible and immensely powerful artifact like the sorcerer's stone within it, without any indication or clue that an object was in there, was a clear proof that it could be employed as a medium for reality distortion and the Headmaster himself had said that there were people who wasted their lives by staring at the mirror. It seemed like a roundabout way of telling that this was one of such dangerous objects he should steer clear of. Not that he heeded those words.

This castle must be hiding a lot of such artifacts within its doors, considering that it had a history spanning a millennium, and he had six more years to unravel the mysteries in this seemingly innocuous school. In his opinion, it was enough time. His friends might be able to help him but he was still indecisive of whether he should drag them into another life threatening situation. In fact, the major problem was that they wouldn't even think twice before following him. Definitely not a good idea.

After making sure that all the shards were obscured from sight and secured properly, he began his return journey to his house. He was so deeply lost in thought that he didn't even perceive the fact that one of Malfoy's lackeys was heading towards him and it was only when he heard the annoying sound of Goyle's voice did he notice him.

"What are you doin' here, Potter?" Goyle sneered and for one terrifying moment, Harry was shocked that Goyle could talk. And properly too! He would have spent more time pondering over this info if not for the growing smirk on Goyle's face.

Oh, damn. He definitely didn't want to know what was running through the brute's mind or whether he was even capable of thinking but he was sure that if Goyle was here, then Malfoy and Crabbe must be roaming around in this corridor.

One troll, he could handle. But two trolls and a snake? It would be an unfair match. How the hell did he even forget to wear his invisibility cloak? It just proved that him thinking in any situation would never end up being good. He should just leave that part to Hermione and stick to fighting trolls, wraiths or dark lords in disguise.

Clutching his wand in one hand, he dug his other hand into his pocket to clench his fingers around one of the mirrors. He only had one shot at this. Flashing the mirror with a speed that could put a racing broom to shame, he fired the one spell that Goyle would never expect. "Lumos!"

The results were astonishing. What he assumed was that the mirror would reflect the light from the spell and by using the momentary distraction, he could disappear using his invisibility cloak. But what had happened was something he would have never even dreamed of.

The light that reflected off the surface shone a bright red before hitting Goyle directly on the face. Like a water drop leaking out of a tap, Goyle landed on the floor. Apparently unconscious.

It took Harry a few seconds to even comprehend what had happened. It was obvious that this was not the effect of his awesomely cast Lumos spell but the result of the light that the mirror reflected. It was a widely known that normal mirrors reflect white light when they were hit with white light, duh, but somehow the light clearly altered into an unpredicted red.

Was it because of what he was thinking? Somewhere in his mind, he was hoping that Goyle would drop down unconscious but did the mirror actually turn his desire into reality?

Wait a minute, wasn't there a spell that could make people lose consciousness? Some stuffer..stupid...Ah, Yes, Stupefy. According to what he heard with a half ear while Hermione was ranting some of the interesting spells she found in some book, Stupefy was a red colored spell.

So, he had the knowledge about the spell but he had no idea about the execution. Did the mirror extract the information from his mind without him knowing? The scary part was that it was entirely possible. He didn't even have any idea of how his parents looked but the mirror extracted that piece of information which was hidden so deep in his subconscious, as he had last seen them when he was one year old, and presented it to him. If it could achieve that level of magic, this must be child's play.

Oh, god. He was carrying seven pieces of reality distorting mirrors in his freaking pocket! This raised the danger level to critical. He could almost hear the alarms blaring loudly in his head and the disappointed look in the Headmaster's eyes was flashing behind his irises.

OK. Time to calm down. Now that he had seen what these innocent little things could do, he definitely couldn't resist the urge to learn _everything_ about them. So, returning them to the chamber was not an option. Come out clean and let the Headmaster deal with them? Nope. That would only lead to the Headmaster losing his trust in him. Strike out.

He could keep them to himself without anyone knowing and pretend that everything was fine? To be honest, that seemed like the only option he had.

Well, he already had one otherworldly object with him, which was the invisibility cloak. What's seven more? And it's not as though he had to make a decision now. He could experiment on them for the whole summer and then determine his course of action. Damn. He was getting frighteningly good at forming plans.

So, with one last glance at the unconscious form of Goyle, he continued his stroll to the Gryffindor common room. Only to find it empty. Where the hell did all the people vanish off to?

1\. 2. 3...Dear Merlin, the end of the year feast!

* * *

Harry barged into Great Hall without a hint of subtlety; which was already full and decked in Slytherin green colors. All conversations came to an abrupt halt at the sight of him and the whispers spread like wildfire as he slowly ambled down to the Gryffindor table. They were people pointing fingers at him as though they had never seen him in their whole life and some of them were craning their necks to sneak a glance. Wait a minute, why did he feel like he had already experienced this? Ah, the sorting. It was as though nothing had changed after an entire year. Morons.

The hushed noises of people conversing about _him_ were grating on his already frayed nerves and in that rush of unquenchable annoyance, he had a moment of epiphany. It must be noted that this supposed epiphany hit him when he was barely thinking of anything but how fucked he was and annoyance was never proclaimed to be a great feeling. So, it was highly probable that this was one of his suicidal ideas. Like strangling a professor or performing a dive on a school broom to catch a stupid remembrall. It was not as though Neville couldn't buy another one if it broke. His life on the other hand? Now that was something that couldn't be found in Diagon Alley for a flash discount sale.

But well, no one ever blamed Harry for being sane.

He abruptly altered the direction he was walking in and headed straight towards the high table. All the professors were staring at him with barely restrained curiosity, including the Headmaster. Well everyone except Professor Mcgonagall and Snape. Professor Mcgonagall was already palming her face in frustration and sadly, this time, her feeling was justified. He just wished that she wouldn't murder him with her kitty claws after what he was about to do. Snape was staring at him with the usual dosage of unconcealed disdain, with his lips curled and face blank. Even his feelings were justified, since what Harry was planning involved him.

With no emotion visible on his face, Harry stood before Snape and bowed deeply. "Thank you for accepting me into the prestigious Slytherin House, Professor Snape. I only hope that I will reach up to your expectations."

Snape choked on his pumpkin juice and amidst the startled pin drop silence behind him, he heard the surprised squeak of Malfoy and the enraged shout of Ron. Life was good.

* * *

 **Author's Note: A token of gratitude to Arnold Devillena for reviewing my every story. Thanks, Bro. Or are you secretly a girl? It's so confusing with all these pen names on Fanfiction. **

**Can you faithful readers take out a little bit of time for me and post a Review? Even a simple 'Good story' will be sufficient. Thank You.**

 **Do not worry, my cute followers. I am not abandoning my previous stories to post a new one every day. I am definitely not a kind person but cruel is not the term people usually use to define me.**


	2. Lost in a Lie

**Never did I expect that so many people would be confused by that last line in the previous chapter. If I had, I would have added a short reminder in the Author's note at the end.**

 **Disclaimer: The flash of a lightning. The winds in a storm. The vastness of a tsunami. The mightiness of an earthquake. The death of an idea.**

 **I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

"It was a joke!" Harry repeated for what must be the thousandth time in the past hour as he gritted his teeth in annoyance. Who would've ever thought that people could be so gullible? "Honestly, you are a prefect, Percy! Don't you know that one cannot randomly change houses just because he is heavily inclined to do so, as I am now?"

Percy Weasely, for his part, only seemed a little bit sheepish as he replied but that might be Harry's imagination playing tricks on him. "But you are Harry Potter. No one knows what to expect when you are concerned."

"Oh, that makes me feel so proud", Harry gushed sarcastically before rolling his eyes. On any other day, Harry could have tolerated Percy's conceited behavior but at the moment, he was so vexed that he might hex any person who asked him the question again.

Percy left after some time but not before spouting a dozen rules Harry broke with his supposedly shameful act and how he disgraced Gryffindor and the Head of the House, Professor Mcgonagall. Harry had never sighed so many times in a single minute in his whole life.

Hermione was trying.., the key word being 'trying'...to make him cower in his shoes with her stern gaze but Harry had long since been immune to it and judging by the frustrated flush on her face, he was sure than even she could perceive that he was entirely unaffected by it.

What Harry couldn't comprehend was that even after violating a fair share of rules herself while participating in their fatal adventures, Hermione could still find the obstinacy to admonish him for the prank. Faced with the question, her reply was that she only broke the rules when she thought that it was necessary and that she would not resort to such silly antics to demean a Professor just because she was annoyed.

At the answer, Harry stared blankly at Hermione for a few apprehensive moments before patting her on the head as though she was a little girl who was rambling foolish statements. Until that moment, Harry never knew that Hermione could perfectly pull off a childish pout. Though he was promptly smacked on the head for snickering uncontrollably, it was totally worth it.

Ron, on the other hand, was torn between laughing his ass off as he recalled the absolute mortification on Snape's face and making an effort to reprimand Harry for even thinking of siding with the so-called 'slimy snakes'. It was a matter of utter bafflement to Harry that even after mingling with other Slytherin students for a year, Ron's biased view of the Slytherin house still prevailed. Though mingling might not be the best word to define their rocky acquaintance with Slytherin students and Malfoy certainly reinforced that biased belief, Harry presumed that Ron would at least mature enough to stop blaming the entire Slytherin house _and_ their ancestors for the dishonorable deeds of a few people. Truly puzzling.

In a roundabout sort of way, Harry could not hold them accountable for being displeased as his innocent prank led to half the Hogwarts population losing their minds while the other half were too busy spreading even more ridiculous rumors to be bothered by the chaos.

The points awarding ceremony was another nuisance as the other houses protested that Gryffindor should not be awarded the house cup as Harry was not a part of Gryffindor. They rudely ignored Harry's shouts that it was just a prank and the chaos was only subdued when Dumbledore brandished his wand from out of nowhere and blasted a sound cannon. After explicating the fact that a student couldn't swap his house – 'Yes, you silly girl. Even if he is Harry freaking Potter, he can't do that', Harry thought with a tired roll of his eyes – once he was sorted into a house, the students calmed down to manageable levels and the house cup was awarded. To Harry's indignation, all of his house members were glaring daggers at him when he was the reason why they won the cup in the first place!

After suffering the torture of being berated by his infuriated Head of the House for a goddamn hour, Harry was released from her claws but not without landing in a detention for next academic year. According to her, he was the only one in known history who achieved the feat of receiving a detention before the present school year was even completed but somehow she didn't seem to be proud while explaining this. No wonder Hermione had to toil so hard to impress the woman.

In fact, the only people who were happy with this ordeal were the twins and honestly, that was not astonishing in any sense of the word. Harry politely rejected their offer of parading him throughout the school for his mind blowing prank but they insisted that from now on, he was a member of the Marauder Protegee group and Harry was stuck between feeling honored and dying out of humiliation. Snape suspiciously did not appear for the whole day.

"It was a joke!" Harry shouted the moment the door slid open but the visitors were not the people he was expecting. Draco Malfoy stood at the door, hands folded across his chest while his two other lackeys dawdled behind him.

Goyle did not appear to be permanently affected by Harry's inadvertent actions but with him, you could never tell anything. He was currently chewing on a chocolate frog, rather messily if Harry might add but that trollish behavior was certainly not unusual. What no one could understand was why Harry breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of them.

"I do hope so, Potter", Malfoy drawled lazily as he eyed the other two occupants of the compartment with disdain. "It doesn't matter, though. A half-blood like you will not survive a day in Slytherin."

"Sod off, Malfoy", Ron yelled with his face as bright as his hair but he was blatantly ignored. Harry couldn't blame them as Ron evidently appeared more comical than intimidating with that angered snarl on his visage.

"Then it makes me wonder how you managed for a year in there, Malfoy", Harry widened his eyes in mock surprise. "Did you dear dad pull some favors?"

Malfoy was apparently bewildered that the Gryffindor golden boy could do anything more than pointing his wand out in anger at anything that moved but that surprise did not last for long. "At least I have a dad, Potter", Malfoy sneered imperiously and Hermione leaped out of the seat with a wand in hand at that comment but Harry placed a hand on her wand arm while shaking his head slightly.

"That must be a novel experience, then", Harry clapped lightly with a taunting smile. "Tell me. How is it? Living under his shadow and walking in his footsteps. I am curious, Malfoy. Do they call you Draco Malfoy or merely refer to you as Lucius Malfoy's son?"

The compartment was eerily silent for a few moments as Malfoy struggled to retaliate but finally, he twisted in his heels as he glowered and rushed out into the corridor. As opposed to all those other occasional spats, this time Malfoy did not leave a passing threat in his wake.

"Take care, Goyle", Harry called out as they departed. "Keep your eyes open at all times."

Goyle furrowed his brows as he customarily did in most of the classes when didn't understand a word of what the professor was saying but Harry was not willing to clarify his doubts at the moment. So with a quick wave of his hand, Harry collapsed down on his seat.

His two best friends were gaping at him with their mouths wide open and Harry simply smiled in return. "That was ... a wise thing you did, Harry", Hermione finally spoke with an untypical awe in her tone. "You've really handled him well."

"Yeah, mate. Never knew you had it in you", Ron's remarks ended with that. Well, he was unequivocally not an eloquent person so Harry did not mind the words of his ginger friend.

"Well, Dumbledore surely imparts some good advice", Harry shrugged as he shifted the blame of his new found intelligence on the Headmaster. As he had mentioned, he was not prepared to clarify the doubts of anyone at the moment and in a way, it was the Headmaster who was responsible for this change, although indirectly.

"Oh!" Hermione nodded brightly as though that simple statement expunged all of her doubts. If she was happy to believe it, then who was Harry to argue? Harry had already elucidated the conversation between him and the headmaster to his friends but he excluded the part with the forbidden magics as he decided that beginning of next year was the best occasion for it as, by that time, he would've reached a satisfactory conclusion.

The rest of the trip progressed with no more incidents and they flitted away their time by playing exploding snap or conversing with their other friends who visited the cabin. But far too soon, the train arrived at the platform in kings cross station and with an excitement that belied his past experiences at the Dursleys, Harry disembarked the train.

* * *

"You can come and stay with me this summer", Ron offered before twisting slightly to include Hermione into the conversation. "Both of you. I'll send you an owl."

"Bye, Harry!"

"See you, Potter!"

"Still famous, huh?" Ron grinned but his comment was interrupted by another one of the students.

"Are you still in Gryffindor?" At this point in time, all Harry could do was roll his eyes in exasperation.

"Apparently, so". That answered both the questions.

"There he is, Mom. There he is, see?" Ron's sister was wildly pointing her finger at Harry and he distinctly recalled the fact that this was the girl who was crying on the platform for not being able to see him.

"Be quiet, Ginny. It's rude to point", Mrs. Weasely admonished but that did not quell the spirits of the exuberant girl.

"Hey there! Ginny Weasely, right?" Harry greeted the red headed girl but she swiftly ducked behind her mother's legs and tried her best to stay out of sight.

'Hmm. Curious', Harry thought but kept his musings to himself as it wouldn't do to appear like a mad scientist to the parents of his best friend. After an exchange of greetings with the Weasley matriarch, Harry was startled out of his conversation by a gruff voice.

"Ready, are you?"

"Uncle Vernon! It's good to see you", Harry dashed over to his Uncle to give him a hug before whispering. "Do not make a scene."

His uncle glanced around like a bull caught in a market and after noticing the people around him, he nodded slightly. This time, Harry was all for exploiting the weaknesses of the Dursleys and the most prominent of them was their obsession with keeping up appearances. Oh, this was going to be so much fun.

* * *

Evidently, summer was not as much fun as he had anticipated. Most of his plans were either stuck as ideas in his mind or were taking too long to come to fruition. The moment he set foot in Privet Drive, Harry made it his mission to fraternize with other residents of Privet Drive and though their reactions were lukewarm at first, Harry was certain that he was making steady progress.

Apparently, when a boy goes missing for a year, people were bound to get curious and that innate desire of the housewives of Privet Drive to have a grasp of everything around them was a blessing in disguise for Harry. Though they were considerably reluctant to make acquaintance with him, even when he offered to help them with their lawns or daily chores, as the Dursleys were spreading around that he was sent to St Brutus secure center for incurably criminal boys but after getting to know him, they were more than happy to indulge him with their gossips.

It was inexplicably boring and he had better ways to spend his time than listening to the rants of jealous women but it was necessary for his future endeavors as these were precisely the women with whom her aunt spent her Saturdays. He was merely threading the web around the delicate links and when the time was ripe, he could pull the strings that would make her aunt squeak when he desired to.

But right now, he was still struggling with his pursuit of unraveling the mysteries of the mirror and as he couldn't perform magic at home, he was stuck with mundane methods of trial and error experimentation. He ducked his head into the Hallway and to his luck, Dudley was about to enter his room with a pack of chips in his hand.

"Hey, Dudders!" Harry called out as he stepped out of his room with a mirror in hand and Dudley nearly dropped the packet he was holding.

"Don't call me that!" Dudley yelled, with spittle and chip crumbs flying out of his mouth.

"God, Dudley! Fine! Stop showering me with your saliva", Harry swiftly cleansed his body with the oversized shirt he was wearing. "But tell me. What do you see in the mirror?"

"Of course, I see myself, idiot", Dudley replied, oblivious to the frown that appeared on his cousin's face.

"Excellent then", Harry clapped his hands with a bright smile on his face. "So now if anybody asks you if you've ever looked at your face in the mirror, you have a definite answer."

"How do you know about that?" Dudley asked with visible surprise on his plump visage and Harry had to suppress a snicker.

"Magic", Harry whispered as though he was divulging a dangerous secret before dashing back into his room.

Dudley's startled gasp and the terrified shouts of 'Mommy. The freak is doing something freakish again!' were the melody to his ears.

Though the results of his premeditated experiment were barely unexpected, it doesn't imply that they weren't perplexing and in a twisted sense, the more puzzling the results were, the closer were his chances of stumbling upon something phenomenal.

So, what he inferred from this was that the mirror operated by utilizing the inherent magic of the individual and as muggles do not possess any magic, the mirror of Erised would be nothing but an ordinary shard of glass for them. In a way, this mirror could be used to test whether a person was magical or not and it would be extremely helpful to identify squibs but compared to the potential the mirror possessed, these were mere quirks.

* * *

Harry spent the next day traversing from house to house while testing his mirror on unsuspecting muggles and there was no mind boggling outcome or that was the case until he came across Mrs. Figgs, who was merrily walking her cats.

"Oh, Harry!" Mrs. Figgs smiled widely at the sight of him and now that he was exposed, there was no way through which he could escape this exhausting encounter. "Look at how much you've grown!"

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Figgs", Harry greeted tiredly. "You've said the same thing yesterday."

"Old age is taking its toll on me!" she chortled and her cats stirred as she blindly tugged at the strap. No matter how much he hated those queer felines, Harry had to pity them as he watched them struggle to escape the hold of the old lady.

"And you've said this too", Harry deadpanned and was about to continue his pleasant stroll but as he fiddled with his mirror, he felt the strange urge to test the mirror upon Mrs. Figgs.

Not the one to ignore his instincts, Harry flashed out his mirror before questioning Mrs. Figgs in a casual tone. "What do you see, Mrs. Figgs?"

What he didn't expect was for her to abruptly lose the hold she had on the belt in her hands and the cats hurried from the place at their new found freedom but in a show of peculiarity, Mrs. Figgs didn't chase after them. Her gaze was transfixed on the mirror and Harry's eyes widened comically as he figured out the reason for her stupor.

He pocketed the mirror as tears began to flow out of her eyes and inquired in a guarded tone. "Mrs. Figgs, are you a witch?"

The next few hours were spent on discerning this staggering discovery and from what he heard as Mrs. Figgs narrated her tragic story while sobbing uncontrollably, she was squib who was appointed by Dumbledore to look after him when her husband and son died in the first wizarding war against Voldemort.

Apparently, she was aware of the abuse he suffered at the hands of the Dursleys but only informed a diluted part of it to the Headmaster who disregarded it as something he must endure. Any sympathy he would've had for her had dissipated with that and with a cold glance at her shaking form, he swiftly sauntered out of her house.

With a calm mind, as he would indubitably have sufficient time to ponder over his feelings at another period, he analyzed the information at hand. So, even squibs could be affected by the mirror and that either meant that the mirror operated on a different principle or that squibs possessed their own magical core but were unable to gain any advantage from it. Logic favored the latter.

After all the drama he had been through, one could understand why he was mightily exasperated by the time he reached the Dursley's house and after that, Dudley just had to remind him of his lack of contact with his friends and the subsequent depressing birthday that followed. If it had been any other Thursday evening, Harry would've ignored the bumbling idiot but at the moment, he was fairly incensed from what he had found and if there was something that infuriated him more than anything in his present situation, it was his cousin who had everything presented to him on a silver platter since childhood. He would've magicked his fat cousin to hell with his wand but though Harry could be considered as a reckless Gryffindor, he was not stupid in any sense of the word.

He shoved Dudley out of the way with one hand but instead of staggering to the side, Dudley was propelled through the hall to land on the kitchen table, which collapsed under the weight of the obese boy. Aunt Petunia screamed in terror before hurrying over to Dudley while his uncle rushed over to Harry in rage, with the TV remote still clutched in his oversized fists.

"You are dead, boy!" Vernon yelled as he raised his meaty hand to lay a blow on Harry but rather than quivering in fear, Harry simply smirked at his purple-faced uncle.

"Oh, yes. Do it, uncle", Harry coaxed with visible glee on his face. "I was waiting for so long for this day. Beat me senseless like you used to do when I was a child. I am sure your sophisticated neighbors will be overjoyed to listen about the abuse I suffered at the hands of my _normal_ relatives for eleven years."

"What are you talking about, freak?" Vernon held Harry by his collar and smashed him to the wall but the amused smirk on Harry's face did not abate in the slightest. In fact, it only widened as he watched his uncle's puce-colored face swell in fury. "I am going to lock you down in your room for a month and then we'll see what you will do."

"Brilliant idea", Harry agreed with a nod. "That would've worked a month ago, but now? Every family in Privet Drive knows my schedule for the entire day. Do you know who supplies the newspaper to Mr. Rogers from Number 8? Who mows the lawn of Mrs. Lara from Number 13? Who shares regular chit chat with Mrs. Stevens from Number 6 while sipping her favorite green tea? Oh, I forgot. I have an appointment tomorrow with Mr. Ellis from Number 5 and he was eminently concerned about my rather poor eyesight. You know Mr. Ellis, don't you, Uncle?"

His uncle's face steadily lost its color as Harry spoke and his grip on Harry's collar loosened with each poisonous word. With the final question, Harry was unceremoniously dropped on the floor and he dusted himself as he rose to his feet. "If I do not appear for the whole month, I am sure all of these people will be exceedingly worried and you don't want to raise baseless doubts in our affable neighbors, do you, uncle? Dudley will be heartbroken if he the steady reputation he built in the school has abruptly collapsed because Mrs. Stevens's son is spreading unholy rumors about this lovely family."

"Aunt Petunia", his aunt squeaked at the mention of her name and Harry had to quell the maddened chuckle that threatened to escape his mouth. "The tea party you planned for this Saturday will be extremely uncomfortable if all our neighbors keep bombarding you with questions regarding my absence. Don't you agree?"

His aunt's only reply was a frightened nod and it amused him immensely that his aunt was more concerned about losing her reputation than she was of any other thought. In the end, manners or etiquette or reputation were merely illusions created by the society, weren't they? They were human concepts that took root in the mind in the medieval times and from then on, people acted like puppets with the strings attached to any person who could manipulate the society at will. It was a terrifying thought and it made him ponder whether Voldemort himself employed the same tactics to throw the entire wizarding world into disarray. He probably did.

"I only have the best interests of this family at heart", he sighed with a hand placed over his chest. "Why can't you people understand that simple fact?"

Utter silence followed his words and he closed his eyes to relish in the momentary peace. Oh, how many years had it been since this hellhole was this peaceful? Running a hand through his hair, Harry knelt down on the floor to pick the remote that fell out of his uncle's unclenched fingers and at that simple action, Vernon floundered back.

A smile blossomed on Harry's face at that instinctual action. "From this day on, I will not interfere in your matters and you will not interfere in mine. The days are gone when I tremble at your feet as you thrashed me to alleviate your meager frustrations. The days are gone when I eat the measly bread crumbs you leave on your plate or starve for days while clutching my stomach in hunger. The days are gone when I will answer to your every whim only to return to my pathetic room with my head bowed as though I am your slave."

"I only seek the freedom you've deprived me off for so long and the day I feel I am shackled by your feeble lives will be the day you comprehend that words are not the only things I've learned at Hogwarts."

With that spine-chilling threat, he ascended the stairs to his room and he did not have to look back to perceive that his uncle collapsed down on the floor. But what he did not perceive was that the entire time he spoke, the mirror in his pocket was glowing as it leeched off the enormous amount of magic he exuded and with the steady influx of magic, it transformed his wish into reality.

* * *

For the next few days, Harry woke up late in the morning and to his surprise, his aunt no longer woke him up early to force him to do the chores. The conversation at the dining table ceased at his presence and he ate in silence before disappearing into his room for the whole day and he only appeared when he desired to use the bathroom or was hungry or thirsty. His uncle did not utter a word to him since that day and Dudley avoided him like the plague and scurried to his room the moment he caught sight of Harry.

He did not expect that his relatives would be this freaked out by his simple threat but since it offered him the freedom he desperately wished for, he did not mind the change of routine. He counted the days for his visit to the Weasley home and with this unforeseen change in the Dursley house he did not expect any more surprises or miraculous incidents.

But as it was typical in the life of Harry Potter, this was only the momentary calm before the storm.

* * *

After conceding with the Dursley's request to stay in his room for the night as the Masons were visiting the house, Harry was serenely staring out of the window and with a tired yawn, he slumped down on the bed. How boring. Who would've expected that in such a short time, he would grow weary of his own room when he was cooped up in the cupboard for ten years. Freedom was irrefutably addictive.

Not a moment had passed since he had finished that line of thought when out of nowhere, an otherworldly creature had abruptly materialized in his room. "Harry Potter!", the creature bowed so low that the end of its pointed nose touched the carpet. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you sir….such an honor it is..."

Harry's eyebrows steadily rose as the creature spoke until they hit his hairline. Was this creature stalking him since the day he set foot in Privet Drive or did all the maniacal magical creatures of this world share his address while sipping tea? Both of them were not comfortable thoughts and Harry had a vivid image of a dragon, troll and whatever creature this was, engaging in political discussions to achieve world peace. That thought brought a smile to his face and quelled the apprehension that was rising in his chest.

"Who are you?" Harry inquired before patting a spot on his bed. "Please, sit down. I have a feeling that this is going to be a long and tiring discussion."

"Sit down! oh..never in my life...Harry Potter sir is as generous as he is powerful. Dobby heard tales of your bravery but of your goodness...oh, Dobby never knew", the creature promptly burst into a fountain of tears and Harry deadpanned at the peculiar sight before him. "Me is Dobby sir. Just Dobby, the house elf."

"A House elf? Does it mean that you are a servant to a family?" Harry tilted his head as he scrutinized the elf before him. It was clothed in an old pillow case with rips for limb-holes and the aforementioned pillow case was smeared with soot and grime. Burn marks were visible at quite a few places which sadly included body parts and specks of blood coated its arms and legs. In a wicked sense, the elf appeared to be an enslaved and abused child who lost its parents. Not the conclusion he hoping to reach but it aptly described the whimpering elf and Harry felt a distinct sympathy for the creature before him.

"Yes, Harry Potter sir. Dobby must serve the family until he is set free but the family will never set Dobby free. Dobby must serve the family until he dies, sir..."

Harry clenched his fingers into fists in anger as it reminded him of how his life would've been if he did not receive his Hogwarts letter; A slave to the Dursleys for life. Now that he realized it, he knew that what he was feeling for the elf was not sympathy. It was empathy, for he clearly knew the life of a person who was never loved or cared for by anybody.

"Do the family know that you're here?"

"Oh, no, sir, no…Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir..." Dobby informed with another sniffle as he stared at Harry with those wide, watery golf ball sized eyes.

"Even then, you dared to come here", Harry nodded to himself as he noted the indignant fury in the elf's eyes as it spoke about the family. "Then your reason must be quite important. What is it, Dobby?"

"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

He must not put himself in peril? That must be the most absurd statement he had ever heard. The danger was like a second skin to him, smothering him at all times and even when he dared to pull off the coat, it would cling back to him like a baby calf who missed its mother. But he couldn't explain all of this to an elf, could he?

"But that's impossible, Dobby. Hogwarts is like a home to me and home is where you are happy. You don't want me to be happy?" If the elf cared so much about him then what better way to obtain information if not by capitalizing on that subtle nuance.

"Oh no, sir! Never will Dobby utter such a thing! But Harry Potter must no go back sir. Terrible things are at play and this time it's not He-who-must-not-be-named, sir! There are things no wizard…. Oh, but I can't tell!" Dobby bounded off the bed and bashed his head to the desk and at the noise, the commotion from downstairs halted abruptly. Oh god, this elf was going to be the death of him by trying to kill itself. Talk about irony.

"Dammit!" Harry jumped to his feet and restrained the elf from doing any more damage to itself and to him as a consequence. "It's fine. There's no need to tell me anything about the secret plot or your masters or anything that might worry you. Just tell me what you see in this mirror."

He placed the mirror before the elf and like a spring in recoil, the elf slackened in his grip. Who would've known? The mirror could influence magical creatures too. But instead of staring endlessly at the mirror, the elf blinked in confusion before reverting back to staring at the mirror. Ok, so magical creatures were a bit immune to its spell and from what he had witnessed, the immunity might depend on the magical power of the creature. Dumbledore seemed nearly unaffected by the mirror after all and in a way, even Voldemort was barely influenced. Another theory could be that it depended on the will of the wizard and the desire behind the wish. After all, even Ron was not as affected as Harry himself and it was clear as a day that Harry was magically powerful than Ron.

He returned the mirror back to his pocket and the elf hurriedly edged forwards before blinking rapidly to clear the vision. "Dobby", he called out in a soothing tone to calm the hyperactive elf. "What did you see in the mirror?"

Tears poured out of the elf's eyes once again but this time it appeared as though they were out of happiness instead of sadness. "Dobby saw himself being freed, sir! Oh, it was so beautiful". If an elf could gush, then it was doing exactly that. "Never in his life was Dobby so happy, sir."

So an abused elf. A plot to make terrible things happen in Hogwarts. 'The next is not going to be as peaceful as I thought', he sighed weakly. Since Ron or Seamus never mentioned anything about servant elves, it's possible that only rich Pureblood families have them. This elf knew almost everything that happened in his first year, so, the house elf must belong to the family of one of the students as it could have only heard from them and the student could probably be from the Slytherin house. A student with a dark heritage. 'Why does this remind me of a blond-haired idiot?'

"Do you possibly serve the Malfoy Family?", he guessed and the elf's eyes grew to the size of saucers and as it was about to disappear in fright, Harry brandished the mirror again. The elf halted in its steps at the sight of the mirror and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. The elf's actions more than answered his question but what he desired to know was not the family it served but the plot that was cooking in the shadows.

"Suppose if I had disagreed with your request and decided to go to Hogwarts, what would you have done?"

"Just like Dobby had been stopping your letters", the elf pulled a thick wad of envelopes from inside the pillow case but by this point in time, Harry had already expected the hand of the elf in this matter. "Dobby would perform magic in the house to have the ministry expel Harry Potter from Hogwarts. Then Dobby would block the entrance to the platform to impede Harry Potter from boarding the train and if the great and generous Harry Potter braved through all these hurdles, then Dobby would extremely injure Harry Potter so that he would have to return to his home."

For the second time that night, Harry's eyebrows hit his hairline and he whistled lowly in appreciation. Who would've known that elves could be such effective planners? This elf was about ready to kill him to prevent him from being killed. That entirely negated the heart of the issue but talk about being obsessed.

"That was...comprehensive", Harry concurred with a tired sigh. "But since you are so determined to prevent me from getting brutally murdered at the hands of another crazed megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur, let's make a deal, Dobby."

"A deal, Harry Potter sir?" Dobby inclined his head to the right while scratching its bald head and that image sent Harry into a fit of laughter.

"Yes, Dobby", Harry nodded after he righted himself, though an occasional chuckle still escaped his confines. No way in hell that he was going to let this masochistic hyperactive elf suffer anymore. "I will free you from the clutches of your evil masters and in return, you will not...make any decisions that might concern me without contacting me first. If I fail, then you can do everything within your power to thwart my plans of getting a proper education."

Dobby waited for a few nail-biting moments to make a decision during which he might be going over all the finer points of the deal or he could probably be staring at the unclean spot on the mat or dreaming about his lover elf at home for all Harry knew but finally, the elf knelt in front of Harry before staring at him with reverence. "Dobby accepts the deal, Harry Potter sir."

"Excellent, then", Harry jumped to his feet, making the elf stumble back in fright at the abrupt motion. "I have a plan in mind but before that, how is an elf freed?"

"The master has to provide the elf with clothes, Harry Potter sir", Dobby swiftly and effortlessly replied.

"That's all?" Harry nearly lost his footing in surprise. "What if they gave you a robe to hang in the dresser? Or maybe a towel to wash? Shouldn't that free you? Does the process entail any foot long incantations or rituals that need a virgin sacrifice or blood magic that leaves you craving for red apples?"

The elf was understandably puzzled by his weird choice of words but he probably chalked it up as some peculiar quirk of wizards or another aspect that made Harry Potter great and awesome. The last thought was his but well, it never hurt to occasionally raise one's ego. "No, sir. If the master gives Dobby a clothing then Dobby is free, sir."

"Your best Christmas present must be a sock", Harry chuckled before he halted in his steps as he recalled about that time when the Headmaster grieved about never receiving a sock for Christmas. 'Is Albus Dumbledore an elf?' Harry thought with wide eyes. 'Merlin, that would explain everything!'

Disregarding that line of disturbing thought to ponder over on some other time, Harry picked up one of his stinking socks and placed it an envelope. "This plan probably won't work since the wizarding world can't be that stupid in my opinion but I do believe that it's worth a try."

Dobby received the envelope as though he was being bestowed with the elixir of life and attentively heard to Harry's plan before disappearing without making a sound.

"Elves are scary", Harry decided as he stared at the spot at which the elf previously stood.

* * *

Harry was calmly sipping water from a bottle while lounging peacefully in the garden on a bright Sunday morning when out of freaking nowhere, an elf landed on his lap. Harry spit the water he was about to swallow in surprise but it seemed that the exuberant elf was apparently unconcerned about getting wet.

"Good morning, Harry Potter sir", Dobby shouted in his ear and Harry jerked back in surprise while managing to dislodge the elf from his lap.

"You seem excited, Dobby", Harry sighed as he struggled to abate the ringing in his ears. He was getting too old for this shit.

Harry was about to take another sip from the bottle when Dobby yelled once again. "Dobby is free, Harry Potter sir!"

Harry spit out the water again. "The wizarding world is actually that stupid?"

* * *

 **Author's Note: So, what do you think? Do Review your opinion, no matter how short or sweet. You know like, "I wish I were as cute as Dobby, the house elf."**

 **If you readers desire it, I will post a short scene depicting what had occurred in the Malfoy Manor. If possible, add your opinion to the review. Thank You.**

 **The next update will be on Wednesday.**


	3. Musings of a God

**People have unanimously decided that the Malfoy Manor scene should be included in this chapter and who am I to argue with my pleasant readers?**

 **Disclaimer: I am but a man in the face of the demons that haunt me. But in the face of a man who trusts me, I am the devil itself.**

 **I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

It was a jubilant morning, proved by the warm light that shone through the halls of Malfoy Manor and the absolute silence that greeted him as he stepped out of his luxurious room. If he had been anybody, he would've smiled in the face of the serenity that engulfed his senses but Lucius Malfoy was not someone who resorted to such expressive actions unless he was about to ruin someone's life or prosper his own. So, as it was expected of him, Lucius raised his chin high before striding towards the pristine bathroom that was adjacent to his own room.

After donning himself in immaculate robes that proclaimed of his stature for him, he calmly descended the stairs with the grace that only a Pureblood like him could manage. His slick blond hair was neatly combed backward and a snake engraved silver clip held the strands of his hair in an elegant ponytail. His silver snake-headed walking stick/ wand was gripped tightly in his hands and he occasionally twirled it in a habit that did not elude him as he reached adulthood.

Seating himself at the breakfast table, he patiently waited for the pitiful elf to serve him breakfast, for it was a pleasant day and Lucius was in an unusually good mood. He might even let the elf go Scot-free for this one day but that only meant that its punishment would be doubled the next morning, so, one could understand why Lucius was reluctant to shower his elf with his generosity.

Within a few moments, the elf appeared before him in its wretched glory but in its trembling hands was not the breakfast he was dearly anticipating. A poor substitute for an envelope was clutched in its bandaged hands and with a sneer that made the elf before him quiver in fear, he snatched the envelope from the elf.

He watched its puffy bulb-shaped eyes follow the envelope and wondering why this mail was so important to the elf, he read the address on the brown textured envelope.

 _To the honorable Lord of the House Malfoy_

His eyebrows lifted infinitesimally, as the people who usually wrote to the Lord of the House Malfoy would at least be prudent enough to purchase a decent envelope, but with a recklessness that betrayed his Slytherin heritage, he dug his hand into the envelope, expecting a parchment. Instead, his fingers encountered a soft but slimy woolen cloth and with a grimace already marring his marble-like visage, he flung the stinking woolen appendage at the deplorable elf beside him.

Like a secret which couldn't be unrevealed or a drop of rain that couldn't revert back to the clouds or a moment that couldn't be brought back, the sock sailed through the air with a purpose and landed in the waiting hands of Dobby, the house elf.

In a rush of common sense that elves usually didn't boast, the elf vanished instantly without staying back to celebrate his freedom or witness, what would undoubtedly be amusing, the reaction of his ex-master. As such, Lucius was left staring at the spot where the elf previously stood with growing dread in his chest. His eyes flitted back to the envelope lying innocently on his breakfast table, as though the execrable piece of paper did not cost him his elf and with incipient anger bubbling inside him, he clenched the envelope in his fingers.

In a fit of fury, he tore the envelope into two before burning it to ashes with a quick _Incendio!_ Mollifying his outrage at what had just happened, he took a few deep breaths before generating plans for damage control. If his wife found out about this…

Not a moment had passed since he finished that thought and his gaze met the piercing gray eyes of his wife, who was standing atop the stairs, with her face betraying nothing of whether she had witnessed the harrowing debacle or not. He schooled his face and brushed away the wild strand of blond hair that was hanging before his eyes while hoping dearly that his wife was not a witness.

Gliding down the steps with a feline litheness that belied her age, Narcissa Malfoy strode over to the breakfast table without shifting her stare from her husband. Gently sliding down into her chair, she plastered a smile on her face and Lucius dared to believe that he might escape out of this without any damage whatsoever.

"Even after all these years, how your dumbfounding incompetency still manages to surprise me is truly an unsolvable mystery."

The hope in his chest was snuffed out like a candle in a blizzard and ignoring any semblance of grace, he jumped to his feet, resulting in his high-backed chair collapsing on the hardwood floor with a reverberating thud and dashed up the stairs to relieve his mounting rage.

He fired a string of curses at the walls surrounding him, uncaring of the scorch marks that began to clutter the stark white walls but abruptly ceased his onslaught when he heard the shouts of his son from his room. With an exhausted sigh, Lucius trudged over to his son's room, hoping that at least the image of his beloved son could alleviate his displeasure

* * *

Draco Malfoy rubbed his bleary morning eyes and to his surprise, the coffee that typically waited on his table was strangely missing. Suppressing the vexed scowl that threatened to appear on his pale face, he shouted for the elf to materialize. He blinked his eyes lazily as he waited but what he did not anticipate was to face the disheveled appearance of his father as he opened his eyes again.

Eyes widening as he took in the not-so-different from a house elf like appearance of his father and promptly decided that he must still be asleep and was experiencing an awful dream, for hell would freeze over before Lucius Malfoy of all people appeared inelegant.

Chuckling at the ridiculous dream he was having, Draco Malfoy slumped down on the bed once again, leaving his father to stare blankly at the sleeping form of his son.

It was a _jubilant_ morning, indeed.

* * *

Scrutinizing the elf that was indulging in a staring contest with his owl, Hedwig, Harry thought to himself that he was wise to fear the power of a house elf. If it could compete in a staring contest with an _owl_ of all things, with the odds being in favor of the _elf –_ Don't ask him. Harry still had no idea when this match had even begun, as he woke up to them engaging in the said contest. But one thing that did bother him was how on earth were the odds in favor of the elf? The opposition was an Owl for god's sake.

After the fiasco that occurred the previous morning, Dobby decided – without his appropriate consent – that the _great and generous and marvelously_ _clever_ Harry Potter sir was his master and no amount of dissent from him could quell the hyperactive elf's enthusiasm. For an elf whose greatest desire was freedom, it surely did not waste a moment to procure itself a new master. When faced with the question, the answer that the elf gave had led to a new round of discussion.

Apparently, he could not free all the house elves of Britain with his trademarked brilliant tactic since this strategy might not work with any other elf than Dobby as the other elves would not even think of accepting freedom, even when the master was assuredly an...unpleasant person. The thought of accepting the freedom goes entirely against their inherent nature, especially when the said master didn't actually will the elf to be freed. Evidently, Dobby was not your typical house elf and by this point in time, Harry had concurred with the fact that all the unusual beings on this planet possessed a peculiar attraction to him.

Point in favor: He could actually sense Hedwig's inner distress at the thought of losing to an elf – How on earth did you think he knew that the odds were in favor of the elf? – and once again, he got to know from his bubbly house elf that this bond was known as familiar bond and it rarely formed between two magical beings who were deeply attached to each other…um, mentally. Admittedly, it usually took at least ten years of relationship with another magical being for a familiar bond to form but the present situation proved otherwise.

This was another advantage of having an experienced House-elf for yourself. His resume boasted that he was employed at the Malfoy Manor for thirteen years, serving the nasty family with great displeasure but the knowledge that he accumulated during his stay was not something to scoff at. Well, he was one clever elf, proved by web of plans he threaded to prevent Harry himself from being killed – There were times when Harry woke up at night, frightened by a nightmare where he was being chased by Voldemort, who made his home on the back of the head of a house elf; Damn, his mind was cruel _._ He had a brilliant owl, a brilliant elf, and a brilliant bushy haired friend; No wonder he was feeling intelligent these days. They might be rubbing off on him but his only wish was that Ron could manage to find himself such companions as it was no mind boggling secret that Ron was in desperate need of them due to his severely lacking intelligence. If only he could get along with Hermione. Sigh.

But a minor drawback was that the House elves could not divulge the secrets of their previous masters but Harry agreed that it was reasonable. Otherwise, nobody would dare to lose a House-elf and Lucius Malfoy would wreak havoc on the wizarding world just to murder his traitorous house elf. But then, Harry was not interested in the dark secrets of the Malfoy family, though it would have been nice to know what the hell the Malfoy was plotting in Hogwarts this year. What he was interested in was the treasure of information about magic and the wizarding world that his precious elf possessed and Dobby was delighted that someone was recognizing for what he was worth. The Malfoys were truly fools if they believed that House-elves were only servants they could exploit for their needs and it was his luck that Dobby loved to read and the Malfoy Manor prided itself for possessing one of largest libraries in Britain. After all, who would suspect a House-elf of devouring tomes and tomes of knowledge from their precious library?

Where was he? Ah, yes. House elves were scary. It was not because one of their kind just won in a staring contest with an owl but because of their transcendental magical skill and magic manipulation. It had not been a day since he made acquaintance with the elf and he had already witnessed wonders that could set Hermione in a warpath to free every house elf in the world. Sometimes, he felt that god created house elves with their slavish nature just to make sure that they would not overthrow all the magical beings with their power. It was terrifying, to say the least.

They could tear through the most powerful wards like they were mere cobwebs and they could imitate the magical signature of any individual. Harry found out about the latter skill when he inquired Dobby about how the ministry would expel him if it was a house elf that performed magic in the house. They had high pain tolerance – Tested and Verified by Lucius Malfoy. God, he would pummel his face the day he met the blond haired bastard – and their agility could put Olympic gymnasts to shame. But the most frightening skill was magic manipulation as the house elves could perform magic with merely a thought and unlike their human counterparts, they would not get tired as they barely waste a trickle of their precious magical energy. Barriers, wards, transfiguration, conjuration, advanced charms….you name it and the house elves could execute them all with a flick of their wrist.

In fact, the only way a wizard could even hope to defeat an elf was by employing the forbidden arts. House elves could not perform any mind magic as their conscious was different from that of a human and their blood could not be used in any rituals and Reality distortion was similar to venturing into the realm of the gods. The house elves were wise creatures in general and treading on the boundaries of mortality was not something a wise being would do.

That was when he had his first lesson in the art of reality distortion, courtesy of Professor Dobby and what he gleaned from that single lecture could equate to his year of education at Hogwarts. Apparently, Reality distortion magic was far, far, too far to comprehend far from what he had envisioned in his mind.

After all, magic in itself was reality altering as it could produce shields out of nowhere, alter objects with transfiguration or achieve near-perfect invisibility with disillusionment charms or invisibility cloaks. Apparition and Port keys could transport people through the fabric of space and offensive spells could shift landscapes themselves. Alchemists could transmute objects, which was a more refined and permanent version of its counterpart, and though the power of a skilled Alchemist was not something to underestimate, they got nothing on Reality distortion magics.

But what only illusion magic could accomplish was to make beings believe that there was a shield when there obviously wasn't. You could break a tangible shield with an offensive spell but how could you shatter an illusion when you yourselves were unaware that the shield was merely an illusion. Though transfiguration itself had its limits, either be it the amount of magical power required for a large scale modification or if the object itself could not be transfigured. For example, you wouldn't be able to convert a metal into gold, no matter the power or skill backed up by the spell. But if you could make a person or a goblin itself believe that the metal they held in their hands was gold then there would nothing stopping you from overthrowing the _entire economy_ of the world.

You could literally make a person die out of starvation by ensnaring him into thinking that the air between his fingers was bacon when, in reality, he was actually eating nothing. You could make a person believe he could fly and he would jump to his death from the top of the Astronomy tower. Though compulsion charms could also bewitch a person, complete control over the _six senses_ of a being was infinitely more effective and inescapable.

But illusions were merely the icing on the proverbial chocolate cake. Reality distortion was more, much more than what a mere mortal could comprehend as one could play with space-time continuum on his palms. After all, time was nothing but an illusion.

You could easily convert the truth into a lie and a lie into the truth. But could you even fathom the thought of altering a lie into a lie? In the face of Reality distortion, facts were baseless, truth was meaningless, events were timeless and Reality was powerless.

Ascension to Godhood was not what Harry had initially desired and would probably never will but he could not ignore the raging inferno in his chest at the mere thought of controlling the tangible reality itself.

Quoting Vespasian, the Roman Emperor: **'Vae, puto deus fio': 'Dear me, I think I am becoming a God!'**

* * *

The Weasely twins, along with their father and brother, Ron, found Harry sitting on the rooftop of his uncle's house and at the sight of them, his eyes widened before a mischievous grin made its way onto his face. The Weasely twins did not become the bane of Hogwarts professors because they were fearless pranksters but because behind their every prank, there was an effort, hard work, sweat and most important of all, extreme intellect. They could notice things that a person could easily miss at first glance. They could decode expressions and actions in the time they could blink and appropriately alter their own objectives and interests. If they were determined, they could perform a spell faster than a typical seventh year at Hogwarts and if they were inclined to do so, they could make the life of a person living hell.

So, while their oblivious brother was exuberantly waving at his friend, the Weasely twins observed the minute shifts in the behavior of their beloved Golden Gryffindor. Not that a person wouldn't change in one and a half month but this change was not in the physical sense but in the mental sense. The behavior or personality could easily alter in that time but the drastic change they were witnessing at the moment could not be achieved by time.

It seemed that Harry Potter had found a _Purpose._

The Weasely twins were your average school students in the beginning but the moment, they found a purpose, that was to be the greatest pranksters the Hogwarts had ever seen, they changed. Phenomenally.

Magic was all about intent and when you find the purpose, you could channel the intent with the strength of your will and that made all the difference. For an individual, their will of heart was initially scattered into a million parts and for a teenager, it was even worse. You were lost in a world where everything enticed you and you craved for everything around you. Greatness, girls, power, Teacher's respect, looks, skill….and the list goes on and on and on until you find a clear clarity in life. Prioritize your desires and consider your options before delving into this world of mysteries and greatness awaits you at the end of your path.

After all, it took a like mind to detect another. With matching grins on their freckled faces, the twins glanced at each other and their grins grew wider at the similar thought running through their minds. _This year was going to be fun._

* * *

Harry shifted his glance from his overexcited ginger haired friend to the grinning twins beside him. Before, he used to believe that twins were awesome pranksters because they had each other and the skill to back their insane ideas. But as his eyes met theirs, he recognized the fire burning in their hazel colored irises as something similar to the one that was ignited in him a month ago. And it was no surprise that he shared their thought: _Oh, this year would be entertaining._

Harry swiftly climbed down with the help of a few windows and an agility that could only come through practice before dragging his truck to the porch. Sauntering over to them, he bestowed them with a cheery smile. "Hello, Mr. Weasely. It's good to meet you."

"Harry Potter! Very pleased to meet you. Ron's told us so much about you", Mr. Weasely greeted with an enthusiasm that belied his age before glancing around with a frown on his aged face. "Aren't your relatives coming to send you off?"

"Oh, I am sorry, Mr. Weasely. They could get a bit overwhelmed with anything that's not normal"

The comment drew raised eyebrows from the twins but they wisely stayed silent. Mr. Weasely lost a bit of his endless supply for excitement but reverted back to his old self in a matter of seconds. "It's all right, Harry. I am sure that everything must be very confusing for them."

Harry agreed with a nod before shifting his focus to the youngest Weasely male. "Hey! Ron, How was your summer?"

"It was good, mate", Ron seemed to be holding back on a ton of words but he was probably hesitant to discuss everything with Mr. Weasely beside him. "What about you? Did you enjoy your holidays...you know..."

"It was fine", Harry waved off Ron's concerns with a twitch of his lips. "But I am sure that it is about to get better."

"Gred, Forge. It's nice to see you guys", Harry inclined his head in greeting after shifting his focus to the troublesome twins and got similar nods in return.

"We have dearly missed our resident hero, didn't we, Gred?" Fred gushed with fake tears rolling down his face.

George emulated him and in sync, they began sobbing uncontrollably. "Indeed, Forge. Indeed. It has been a painful summer for our fragile souls."

"Stop your silly antics, boys", Mr. Weasely sighed but it was not an exhausted or an exasperated sigh. It was something that one could only produce after enduring the twins for fourteen years. "We have to get home fast if you don't want to incur the wrath of your mother."

That seemed to shake the twins out of their foolery and with a shudder, they lifted Harry's trunk and placed it in the trunk of a car that abruptly made itself visible. Harry blinked owlishly at the sky-blue colored car before shifting his questioning glance to the grinning ginger beside him.

"Dad made a few tweaks to a muggle car and now it can fly and also turn invisible to avoid the sight of the muggles" Ron informed proudly and at that, Harry glanced at Mr. Weasely with an amused smile on his face, who winked with apparent glee on his visage.

"I am fascinated with muggle appliances, as you can see", was Mr. Weasely's only answer.

'It may not be a typical thing to do in the wizarding world if Mr. Weasely is trying to be hush about it', Harry thought with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Harry wondered how five of them, along with his owl, Hedwig – she was still fairly depressed about the contest – could fit in that car until it magically expanded to fit all of them. 'Of course, magic has an answer to everything'.

The journey to the Weasley's home was spent on conversing about their holidays; well, Ron was excitedly muttering about all his escapades while Harry listened patiently. Thankfully, they arrived at 'The Burrow' as the family called it without being spotted by any sky gazing muggles and they entered the cramped kitchen with more than enough time to spare, as Mrs. Weasely was still cooking the breakfast, albeit a little haphazardly. They began their morning breakfast and in Harry's opinion, it was rather uneventful until a red-headed figure in long nightdress appeared in the kitchen before promptly hurrying out with a squeal.

"Ginny", Ron informed in a whisper. "She's been talking about you the whole summer."

'Ah. That girl', Harry mused as he distinctly recalled a flushed girl who was too shy to even glance at him. Apparently, the obsession was not temporary. 'It'd be interesting to watch how she will get used to living with me in the same house for a month.'

* * *

Life at Burrow was definitely more exciting than what he had experienced at the Dursley's home and though he could not perform magic even at this place, it was thrilling to be surrounded by a home that hummed with saturated magic. He spent most of his time with Ron or the twins or training Ginny to act normal around him and it was perplexing that out of the three past times, he dedicated the most to spending his time with twins instead of their younger brother and the latter of the three amused him the most. He never knew that a person could turn so many shades of red but he was grateful that the perpetual blush on her cheeks was slowly receding.

She was interesting once you get to know her and according to her, nobody ever tried that but she was not the one to be depressed by such trivial things. Though Harry was concerned that her hurt ran a little deep, he could not confront her at the moment and it was not as though he was proficient at opening up to people; To be honest, that must be the understatement of the century.

He did make sure to constantly grill into her that he considered her to be a little sister he wished he had and though she was unbearably sad about having her dreams crushed with a single statement, she was certainly happy that at least she had someone to talk to. For now. In her words, she had enough brothers already to coddle her and there was no need of another. So they finally settled on friends and though it was an unsatisfactory conclusion for the both of them, a truce was the only option they ever had.

Dobby met him daily at the small unused paddock where the Weasleys usually played Quidditch and though Hedwig was getting accustomed to sharing Harry with another magical being, she was not entirely delighted with it. She did make it a point to constantly show her displeasure through their mental link and Harry himself conveyed his exasperation at her antics. Fair game, if he ever saw one.

Dobby or Professor Dobby, as Harry generally referred to him – They made a deal that until Dobby assented with Harry's request to call him 'Harry', he would stick to Prof. Dobby – was a strict teacher and though the elf was all for praying to his framed photo at other times, Dobby reminded of Prof McGonagall when he was in his teaching mode. Such a startling contrast was hard to get used to but with time, Harry managed to suppress the snickers that constantly tore through his mouth when Dobby was in his professor role. After all, the detentions he must serve were not as pleasant as he had presumed; His hand still ached from the number of push-ups he did. According to Prof. Dobby, Harry would be half-dead before he could manage a decently powerful spell in his present state and it was at times as these that Harry dearly missed the bubbly and hyperactive Harry Potter devotee.

* * *

The trip to Diagon Alley was exhausting, to say the least. Floo Transport did not agree with him and lost in their action-packed feud, Harry found himself in Knockturn alley out of the places. That was an experience he wouldn't forget for another month as, by that time, he was sure that another crazy adventure would replace the previous one in the rankings of utter madness.

If that was not enough, Gilderoy Lockhart turned out to be the babbling fool he was expecting, but for once, Harry wished that he could be wrong about his premonition. After the encounter with that flashy, annoying and honest to god creepy man, Harry declared that he would rather suffocate himself with Snape's potions notes than buying the set of five books the man recommended. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley were breathing fire by the time he finished ranting about the foolishness of the deplorable man but Harry concluded with an iron will that dying at the hands of two crazy enraged witches was an agreeable sacrifice for the sake of humanity.

So it was no wonder that when they encountered Lucius Malfoy, Harry wasted no time in faked pleasantries and directly went on with the onslaught. "Oh, are my eyes deceiving my beleaguered senses or is it actually, The Lucius Malfoy?"

The jaws of the Weasely family hit the hard pavement as Harry gushed with sugary sweetness encased in the words dripping out of his mouth. "It's such an honor to meet you, sir."

Lucius Malfoy, who was ready to utterly humiliate the Weasely family abruptly halted in his tracks as he stared blankly at the boy bouncing before him. After all, it was not every day that a boy appeared in front you and proclaimed himself as his devotee. "May I know your name, young wizard?"

"I am but a trivial soul in the face of your greatness", Harry lamented with the back of his hand resting on his forehead. "Are you actually carrying those books, sir? Oh, what is wrong this world! You should have merely ordered your servant _house elves_ to carry out such frivolous tasks for you, sir. Such tasks are truly beneath you."

Whatever Lucius was about to say had dissipated from his mouth at the mention of 'house elf' and the proud smirk plastered on his face waned a little. "Ah, it is nothing, dear boy."

"Of course, it is. Say the word and I will bequeath myself to your service like an _elf_."

Lucius was about to respond when his son appeared beside him. "Enjoying yourself, Potter? Can't even go to a bookshop without making the front page, can you?"

 _Potter?_ Lucius scanned the boy's face again and hiding inconspicuously behind his dark fringes was the lightning bolt shaped scar that the boy was famous for. Then what was the act all about? Wait a minute...He glanced at the boy once again and behind the false facade of blind respect was the mischief that clearly reminded him on another messy haired prankster.

"What can I say, Draco? Not everybody can be as adept at being discreet as a _house elf."_

As the realization hit Lucius Malfoy like the Knight Bus on a chilly night, the world was lost in a storm of chaos.

* * *

Harry was passing by Ginny's room while occasionally giggling to himself at the expression on Lucius' face as the realization dawned upon the blond haired Lord. He only hoped that the photographer dawdling around captured an image of that hilarious moment. He was about to walk past her room when he recalled how Lucius' demeaned the Weasely family and he was certain that she could use the support of a person at this time.

Tentatively stepping into her room, he found her hunched over her desk as she absentmindedly drew patterns in the air. Definitely unusual. He would be lying if he said that Ginny launched into him the moment she noticed him and bawled on his chest but Harry Potter was nothing but persistent about the matters he cared about and a girl who had a crush on him was clearly doomed to fail. Well, she could have quelled under his gaze a bit earlier as it was inevitable that she would lose her will to remain silent but Harry was not here to complain, was he?

This time, Ginny revealed her thoughts about being poor and having to purchase second-hand goods and for the one hour that she poured her soul out, Harry listened intently while providing his own insight on the matter. After all, the first eleven years of his life were definitely not spent in luxury and had Dursleys had their way, his situation would've remained the same for another few years.

It was not his best attempt at comforting a person but no one ever blamed Harry Potter for being subtle. After a teary good night and heartfelt thanks from Ginny, Harry was about to leave the room when his gaze fell on a faded-black textured book.

"Are you planning on writing a Diary?" Harry queried as he flipped through the empty pages of the book.

"Of course not", Ginny replied with a frown as she stared at the book in his hands. "I don't know how that book got here."

Harry could feel a distinct sense of discomfort as he held the book in his hands and his scar burned slightly as glanced at it. His instincts were going haywire as the suspicion in his mind steadily rose to danger levels. With a voice that concealed the anxiety coursing through his veins, Harry requested. "Do you mind if I take this book with me?"

Ginny shook her head in answer and with a hasty good night, he slipped out her room with his brows scrunched in thought. 'Why is a simple diary unsettling me? It is entirely blank, for god's sake!'

Sitting at Ron's desk, he took out a quill and an ink pot before scribbling on the paper. 'Hello. This is Harry Potter.'

To his astonishment, the ink shone brightly on the paper for a second and then, as though it was being sucked into the page, vanished. Oozing back out of the page, in his very own ink, came the words that Harry would have never expected in a million years.

' **Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle.'**

The sound of Harry's quill clattering on the wooden floor echoed in the chilling silence of the room.

* * *

 **Author's Note: This is Not a Harry/ Ginny pairing. As it's mentioned in the description, the pairings are Harry/ Daphne/ Fleur.**

 **So, how was the chapter? Anything you had expected? If you did, feel free to mention it in the review and if you didn't review your reaction. I love Hilarious reactions of the readers.**


	4. A Deal with the Devil

**Disclaimer: Power is a terrible thing. The mere thought that something is in your control brings forth a sense of responsibility but even more frightening than the responsibility is that its entire existence is lying on the palm of your calloused hand.**

 **I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

Nicholas Flamel, the famed Alchemist and the creator of the Sorcerer's stone, stood in front of the ornate golden frame that once held a mirror whose power was as terrifying as it was bewitching. Now the mirror lay broken at his feet, a deceiving clutter of hundred shards appearing no more harmful than the slight chill that hung ominously in the dark chamber. But Nicholas knew otherwise, that the feigned innocence of the inconspicuous shards was merely an illusion to fool the naive minds of the people.

For, after all, something broken didn't always imply something innocuous.

The wraith that failed to obtain his stone was a proof of that fact, for the dark lord was merely a broken piece of something far more sinister; a part of a greater evil.

One would expect the Alchemist to appear old and frail since his precious creation was beyond the point of no return, but defying all logic, the man donned in a blue robe that hung loosely over his lithe frame appeared no older than an unmarried man who was searching for a suitable bride. His golden blond hair that glittered brighter than the afternoon sun, was the only source of light in the chamber and the tanned face gave him the appearance of a professional surfer. But the sight that drew focus to this ethereal looking man was not his toned physique or the chiseled face but the sapphire blue eyes that glowed with barely restrained power. It was a sight that sent chills down the spines of people who would dare to oppose the man but at the moment, his appearance would only be visible to those who were previously aware of the man's appearance.

For those who were unaware of his appearance, he would be what they expected him to be. An old man or a fearsome warrior or a ruthless pragmatic or... But the warlock standing beside him was his protegee, so, Nicholas felt no need to tone down the aura surrounding his existence. After all, magic was not meant to be suppressed but to be wielded with pride.

"Though your plan lacked the bare thought a man would've put into an endeavor of such significance, it didn't seem to be a complete failure", Nicholas remarked in an even tone as he scrutinized the extent of damage that the mirror suffered.

"Everything went according to plan, although the stone was entirely destroyed in the process and for that lack of forethought on my part, I sincerely apologize, Master Nicholas", Albus Dumbledore bowed his head in apology while his hands remained folded behind his back. His shimmering yellowish purple robe was a sight that would make any sane person cringe with unconcealed horror but Nicholas was far too immune to the eccentricities of his student, so much that his only reaction was an inaudible sigh. Not that it discouraged Albus but Nicholas thought that it was his responsibility as a teacher to occasionally display his dissent at the appearance of his student.

"Don't be foolish, Albus", Nicholas chastised as he strode forward and hovered a hand above the shattered mirror. "Had I perceived any chance that my stone could be a collateral for your insane strategy, I wouldn't have delivered it to you in the first place. Senility is unbecoming of you."

With a pulse of power that rattled the very foundations of the chamber, Nicholas cut his hand through the air in a diagonal motion and as one, the shards simultaneously rose into the air before revolving around the palm of the Alchemist. This was not the magic that was usually witnessed in the wizarding world and the few people who ever had the pleasure did not live long to tell the tale, for the initial pulse of power itself would've killed an average wizard in an instant. It was a good thing that Albus Dumbledore was no average wizard. But that didn't hamper the man from staring at the phenomenon in unbridled awe.

The shards emitted a crimson glow that steadily rose to blinding levels before the glow slithered out of the shards to coalesce on the palm of Nicholas. The chamber shook in resonance, with dust falling from the ceiling in protest and as the crimson glow engulfed the entire chamber in a vice grip, the air around the two formidable wizards shimmered with unbearable heat. Within moments, one could perceive the telltale signs of a stone being enveloped by the reddish hue and when the power output had ceased, as the Alchemist severed the flow of magic from his immense magical core, the shards dropped down on the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.

Lying on the palm of the Alchemist was a ruby red stone that radiated power on a level that could destroy mountains with hardly any effort. "Did you think that an object as powerful as the sorcerer's stone could be destroyed by an upstart Dark Lord and a first year Hogwarts student? It seems as though you have lost the touch you possessed at Illusion magics. After all, the protection wards you placed around the stone were as easy to unravel as a thread."

"I did not want to take any chances with the wards collapsing over each other and destroying the school in the process. It wouldn't require much of that potent magic to trigger the ley line below the school", Albus reasoned but his focus was still latched onto the stone that his Master held.

"You embedded a stone as powerful as the sorcerer's stone into an object as dangerous as the Mirror of Erised and you were worried about the wards collapsing over each other? Do not demean yourself with your words any further, Albus. Accepting a mistake is the first step in correcting the mistake and it is no puzzle that this plan was doomed to fail from the start", Nicholas narrowed his eyes slightly as he scanned the stone before he shifted his gaze to the mirror again.

"The stone was stored inside the mirror for four months! Do you know what that much exposure could do to the mirror? It's magic in itself is bewitching and add the power of the stone to it and you have something that is much more potent than basilisk venom and as tough as a goblin-made sword. What if a student stumbled upon these shards? That level of power can kill a student in seconds, Albus", Nicholas' voice was as leveled as a quidditch ground but the tone in itself was enough to make Albus Dumbledore flounder back.

"Of course, no student will dare to enter the chamber after what happened, Master Nicholas", Albus appeased as he straightened his pristine robes in nervousness. The headmaster might be the infallible stone that the wizarding Britain balanced itself upon but in face of his teacher, he felt as though he was back to his teens and was mightily frightened to even stare the Alchemist in the eye.

'Are you so certain about it, Albus?' Nicholas thought to himself as he scrutinized the shards. Some were missing. He could only notice it because the stone was lacking in power and being its creator, Nicholas could even sense the slightest twitches in the transcendental object.

He might have to schedule a good, long chat with that boy. After all, it wouldn't take a genius to guess who the culprit was and if what he gleaned about the boy was true, then Harry Potter might have already started down the path of illusions: The path where everything was true and nothing was real.

* * *

" **Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle."**

The silence that invaded the room was broken into a million pieces by his quill but Harry was sure that the sound of his heart pounding in his chest was far louder than the noise of the wooden quill. Anxiety raced through his veins, faster than light but slower than the pace of his thoughts, for the shock that froze his body was nothing compared to the fear that clouded his mind.

In a blink of an eye, Harry grabbed the quill from the floor and scribbled hastily on the faded white pages of the diary. Before his undiluted panic could control his actions, he wanted to confirm the severity of the situation he found himself in and if there was one thing he learned from his meager experiences, then everything that seemed innocent was rarely so and everything that radiated danger was worth risking a glance. Snape and Quirrel were the best proof anyone on earth could provide.

"How are you able to write back to me?"

The reply took a few moments to appear but the answer was barely satisfying and had it been any other situation or any other person, Harry would've stifled a chuckle. " **Magic".**

But this situation was anything but normal and the person he was talking to was the same one who tried to kill him a few months ago. Not a memory someone could forget even if they tried. "Do you know who I am?"

This time reply appeared in the form of a lazy scrawl, as though the diary didn't even think the question was worth any thought. **"You are Harry Potter. That's all you've divulged and hence, that's all I know.** **Are you someone worth knowing, Harry?"**

'Well, if a person defeated me twice and nearly killed me on both times, then I will probably remember their name', Harry thought with a roll of his eye. But what was bewildering was that the person in this diary should definitely be aware of who Harry was. They could be pretending for all Harry knew but even if they were, what could a mere diary do to him? This might be a chance to glean more info about the Dark Lord but Harry was not arrogant enough to take foolish actions, especially when Voldemort was concerned.

"If you are from my generation, then you will surely know who I am. So, then what time period are you from?"

" **You are a genius, aren't you? Any other person would've ignored this diary as a cheap trick or** **feared its mere presence. But you? We have just started and you are already asking the right questions! Either you know more about me than I know about you or…. This might be interesting, after all."**

Now, it's sounding...er, writing like the Voldemort he knew. Not something to take comfort from but fear of the expected was always better and less terrifying than the fear of the unexpected. "You didn't answer my question."

" **Oh, I am about to."**

As though a sudden breeze rushed through the room, the pages of the diary began to flutter like the wings of a chicken before the motion ceased and the little square at the corner of the page mentioning December 23 altered into a little screen that steadily grew bigger until Harry felt his body float in the air and disappear into the diary.

He appeared in what seemed for all purposes to be a bathroom and if his eyes were not deceiving him, it was a girl's bathroom. For a frightening moment, Harry thought that this was a case of mistaken identities and Tom was short for the name of some crazy girl. But his fears were unfounded, as the very sink slid open, revealing a huge tunnel entrance and before he could inspect the sudden emergence of a tunnel from a _sink in a girl's bathroom,_ a charming boy around the age sixteen climbed out of the entrance.

It was not one of the best entrances he had ever seen in his life but the boy's mere movement was taut with power and Harry had no doubts over who this boy was. He was staring at Voldemort when he was just a student at Hogwarts and considering that the boy calmly walked past him, no one could perceive the presence of Harry.

Without a hint of shame that he was walking out of a girl's bathroom on an afternoon, the boy strode forward and Harry had no choice but to follow him. Just as they were about to leave the premises, a giggling girl with round glasses and freckles covering all of her pale face encountered them and at the sight of Tom, she blushed in a clear imitation of how Ginny previously used to at the sight of Harry.

"Good afternoon, Miss Myrtle", Tom greeted and without waiting for a response, he walked past her. The girl took a few moments to snap out of her Tom induced trance and by the time she noticed the jet black haired boy, he was already turning around the corner. "Bye, Tom", she whispered to herself before rushing into the bathroom with another giggle.

Harry was cringing so hard that even if he was invisible and undetectable, the entire population of Hogwarts must be feeling his mortification. There was no doubt about who this girl was, for she was the permanent resident of the second stall in the very same bathroom and if he what he had seen was real, then she could be one of the numerous victims of Voldemort; Moaning Myrtle.

He dashed through the empty corridors in blind search of the boy and judging by the snow falling from the heavens, this must be December month and everyone left for the holidays. What better time to indulge in your megalomaniac vices? His haphazard search came to an abrupt end when he found the boy conversing with one of the professors and had it been any other professor, Harry would have ignored the conversation in favor of roaming the halls but standing before him was the probably fifty years younger Dumbledore. Time had done no favors for the current Headmaster of Hogwarts as the wizened wizard seemed to have lost most of his will and unimaginable power during the war since the man standing before the to-be-Voldemort was the very symbol of strength.

Magic rolled in waves with each twitch of Dumbledore's finger and the unsettling electric blue eyes were much sharper and for a moment, Harry had to applaud the boy for managing to appear unperturbed under such vicious assault of magic. Harry ambled forward to pay attention to the conversation but as he took the second step, he was lifted into the air once again and was promptly propelled out of the diary.

" **I believe that my answer was rather satisfying. Don't you think, Harry?"**

Without wasting a moment, Harry closed the diary hurriedly and landed back on the chair with a thud. That was...informational. If what he inferred from the memory was true then the period must be around 1940's and Tom Riddle he had seen was the sixteen-year-old version of Voldemort. So, the memories in the diary could be limited to first sixteen years of Voldemort's life and wasn't that alarming? If the man could perform such advanced magics as linking his conscious to the diary when he was just sixteen years old, then how powerful would be a seventy-year-old Voldemort?

That was not a question to which he was enthusiastic to find an answer.

* * *

Harry could not sleep. That was not because of his red-headed friend's deafening snores or chatter of the insects that resided in the vicinity or the occasional hoots of the owls but because of the silent diary that rested in the pocket of his nightwear. He was waiting for the noises in the house to dull down to sneak into the paddock and procure the sage advice of Prof Dobby.

After an eternity, baleful silence encased the Burrow and in the blink of an eye, Harry Potter was outside his friend's room, under the reliable protection of his invisibility cloak. Without making a sound, he slithered down the stairs and just as he was about to thank the mighty heavens for this great opportunity, he noticed the busty form of Mrs. Weasley, who seemed highly insistent at ascending the stairs. No way in hell that both he and Mrs. Weasely could fit in this cramped space and after cursing the wretched heavens for this predicament, he mounted the wooden railing and secured himself with the help of the wooden bars.

Mrs. Weasely, for all her infinite energy, was an extremely slow woman and though it was not the time to spend upon speculation, Harry had nothing to do but observe her as she climbed the stairs, one step a minute. By the time, she passed by him, Harry felt that the Sun could be greeting him at the entrance and without wasting another moment, he hurried out of the house.

As though it was signifying the reason for his arrival, the paddock was curtained by a blanket of darkness and after collapsing at the base of a huge tree, he cast a Lumos to brighten his day. Dobby barely took a second to appear after Harry's call and at the sight of the black leather bound diary in his hand, the elf skipped around in a frenzy of terror.

"Oh, Dobby has failed the great and generous master Potter. Now the evil book possessed Master Harry Potter and it's all Dobby's fault", the elf wailed as it bashed its bulbous head to the tree. "Now Dobby will forever be known as the elf that killed the great Harry Potter, sir."

"No one possessed me, Dobby", Harry deadpanned as the elf continued to punish itself and with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, he restrained the elf from doing itself any more damage. "If anything, I am terrified and you are not helping me with your hysterics!"

"Harry Potter sir is not possessed?" Dobby inquired hesitantly, as it lifted its head to stare at him with those wide, watery eyes. "Harry Potter sir is still the great and generous Harry Potter sir?"

Trying his hardest to not laugh at the way the elf framed the question, Harry shook his head. "I am Harry. In flesh", Harry chuckled before adding hastily. "And in mind too."

"Then what is Harry Potter sir doing with the evil book?"

"Oh, that's a story for some other time, Dobby", Harry replied as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "But for now, I am in dire need of Prof Dobby."

A gentle breeze lifted the dry leaves in the vicinity and by the time they drifted down to the ground, an – entirely same in appearance but different in personality – elf was kneeling before him and had he not known Dobby as personally as he did, he would've chalked it up as some peculiar split personality phenomenon in elves.

He informed about the situation to the now attentive elf and though the predicament was hardly worth losing their minds over, as it was a simple diary, the fact that it had a conscious bothered Harry the most. No sentient being in itself was innocuous and considering that his beloved elf uttered the words, 'possession' and 'killed', Harry was certain that concealed behind the leather cover was something far more sinister than what he could comprehend at the moment.

"So, do you want me to destroy the diary, Master Harry Potter?" Dobby grabbed the diary from Harry's hands and he was more than happy to relinquish his hold on the unsettling object.

It took a few moments for Harry to answer and it came in the form of a reluctant nod. Though the diary was indubitably dangerous, Harry couldn't help but feel that he was renouncing an opportunity that he would never get again.

Dobby sauntered over to the middle of the clearing, a safe distance away from Harry and pointed a thin finger at the book. Before Harry could ponder over what was happening, the clearing was illuminated by an explosion of light so bright that Harry worried that even the people from the nearby village could perceive it. The wind surged in the vicinity, shaking the branches violently and dust propelled through the gaps between the gigantic trees. As the brightness dimmed down to manageable levels, Harry ambled over to Dobby with a grin on his face but it vanished when he noticed the elf gaping at the diary with its mouth wide open.

There wasn't a scratch visible on the Diary.

Before Dobby could die out of shock, Harry shook the elf forcibly and with tears flowing like twin rivers out of its eyes, the elf apologized to him. "Dobby couldn't destroy the diary, Harry Potter, sir. The book is too evil to die from Dobby's power."

Harry waved off the concerns of his elf with a smile. "Don't worry, Dobby. In fact, I was expecting something like this to happen. Voldemort is not foolish to store his memories in a container that can be destroyed with pure force."

Suppressing a maniacal chuckle, Harry crouched down on the ground, with an – all purpose – shard of mirror in his hand. Turning over the leather cover, he positioned the sharp edge of the mirror above the brownish gray paper, in a clear sign of cutting a throat and surgically, he dragged the mirror down the paper.

Black ink spurted like a fountain from the gash in the book, dripping onto the hard ground and it was swiftly absorbed by the mud. Harry thought that he distinctly heard an agonized scream but before he could ponder upon that thought, the ink on the book twisted and turned to form four letters. Written in a hurried scrawl was a single word. **"Stop."**

Harry lifted the glass shard from its position on the book and waited for the diary to speak...or, um, write. **"Stop. I don't know why you are adamant at destroying the dairy but you will gain nothing from it. Hear me out. I know secrets...secrets that are lost to time, secrets that are far beyond the comprehension of any mortal, secrets that can destroy the entire world and build a new one upon it."**

With the ink that was splattered on the pages, Harry wrote on the unscathed pages with the tip of his finger. "I am listening. You have one chance. Present your best, Riddle."

As he wrote, the gash on the book mended slightly but not enough to make any difference and his eyes narrowed as he pondered over this peculiar phenomenon. 'Is it leeching off my magic to fuel its own conscious? So, does it mean that as long as I don't write anything in the book, then the diary is practically powerless?' he mused. Dobby was gesturing at him hurriedly, with the elf's hands crossed in a clear 'no' sign, while shaking its head fervently.

"Don't fall for its tricks, Harry Potter sir", Dobby warned, with its eyes wide in horror. "The Diary is reeking of dark magic and no good will befall from making a deal with the devil."

"The wizard who is out for my life has fifty years of advantage over me, Dobby. If not now, someday I will find the desperate need for the power and knowledge that I severely lack and when that day comes, and come it will, the choice will not be mine to make. At least now, I can do it on my own terms", Harry shifted his gaze from the apprehensive elf to the diary as words began to form on the page. "But I am not worried, Dobby. For even if I fall to knees, I have confidence that you will be there to lift me onto my feet."

The quivering elf froze abruptly and with a watery sniffle, he bowed so low that he could kiss the ground if he tried. "I promise upon my life and honor as an elf to serve you and have your back until my days end, Harry Potter sir."

"The Honor is mine, Dobby. It's undoubtedly mine", Harry patted the beaming elf on the head and as one, they focused their complete attention on the diary.

" **I bequeath my entire knowledge in return for my existence. As you already know, I can show my memories to you, quite vividly if I may, and as such, my way of teaching is far more effective than reading from any book or listening to any class. I also know a place in Hogwarts, where you can train in secret without anybody knowing and I am certain that you remember the entrance to that place from the memory you've seen."**

With one last glance at Dobby, Harry replied. "Yes. How about we go on to make a deal?"

The response did not take a moment to appear, as though the diary was waiting eagerly for this moment – It probably was. **"You heal me by providing some of your magic and in return, I will divulge an important** **secret** **to you. I think that it's proper to satisfy my end of the deal first.** _ **Lying beneath the school is a chamber, created by Salazar Slytherin himself and only a true heir of Slytherin can access the chamber. A chamber of secrets. Fifty years ago, it was opened after many centuries by myself and the entrance way you've seen leads to that chamber. But what nobody knows is that the stories about a monster residing in the chamber are true and the monster is a Basilisk, bred by Slytherin, to act as a last measure defense in case Hogwarts is in danger."**_

Harry turned to Dobby for a confirmation and Dobby nodded his head vehemently in reply. A freaking Basilisk beneath the school? Had he not caught hold of the diary, a Basilisk could have been set loose? It wouldn't take a genius to guess that the gladiator who would be sent into the chamber with a sword and a shield would be Harry himself if it ever happened.

Taking a deep breath, Harry reevaluated his decision and concluded that as long as he practiced caution, he would be safe. Safe was not the apt word to describe his situation, for when Harry Potter was concerned, all the bets were off and in the end, safety was a relative term for him. How far from danger? Now that's the right way to depict his life.

With a steady hand, he dipped his finger into the ink and held his finger to the page. "I accept."

Slowly but steadily, the rip in the book patched up but he did not feel any more tired than he usually was. Believing that it might not consume as much magic as he assumed, Harry waited until the book appeared no worse for wear and lifted his finger from the diary. The moment the connection was severed, exhaustion hit him like the cold of the night and he fell forward until he was balancing himself by his elbows. The world was spinning around him, with vague blurs hovering in front of his eyes, and he could distinctly hear the worried mumblings of Dobby.

With one last glance at the seemingly harmless diary, he gave into the exhaustion that was seeping into his mind.

* * *

The clamor in the platform was strangely endearing to Harry and though, he would not mind a bit of peaceful silence for one freaking minute, this was fine too. Some students were excited, the first years were clearly nervous, some were too lost in explicating their escapades to care about the others and some were struggling to escape the loving confines of their parents, like the Weasleys, were. It was good, for it meant that no one would notice if acting Harry Potter was acting strange or was appearing exhausted when the clock didn't even run past the midday mark.

After boarding the train and securing themselves a nice and cozy cabin, Harry left his friends while reasoning his sudden urge to roam the train as him coming to his senses and getting to know other people. This was the first part of the plan – formed by Harry & Co. – as an alibi for himself that he did board the train, for the second part of the plan involved him not attending the sorting...or having a dinner in the Great Hall. Damn it. No one could argue that welcoming feast wasn't delicious.

Though his friends would be enough for an alibi, Riddle explained that if he did get caught at some time of the year, he wouldn't want the whole school to turn him over to the Headmaster on a silver platter and judging by the mystery surrounding him, Harry did not doubt the highly intelligent boy for one second. Him being a Parselmouth – God knows how that happened. Riddle was so shocked that the pages were empty for an entire day – was another reason why doubt was not the first feeling that rushed into his mind. So, this meant that he would have to have a few friends in all the houses to stand up for him when the time arose and apparently, Riddle followed the same strategy when he was at school. Considering that Riddle went on to become a head boy and a manipulative bastard, the tactic was both reassuring and not just a little troubling. But well, Dobby did agree with Riddle on this part, albeit with great reluctance and Harry had no choice but to follow the _advice_ of his two _mentors._ Ridiculous.

The first cabin he visited was filled with a few girls from Hufflepuff, them being Susan and Hannah, and a girl from Ravenclaw, her being Padma and some other boys he did not honestly care about. Slumping down on the empty space beside the three boys, Harry held his head in his hands to abate the headache he had since the day he placed his hand on the diary and massaged his temples before greeting the occupants with a weak wave of his hand. "Hello, people."

Judging by the disbelieving looks on their visages, Harry was certain that he did not make a good first impression. He knew he was not cut out for this sort of thing but it was either this or proclaiming himself to be a devout follower of Slytherin and performing weird rituals. "So, how were your holidays?"

The depressing silence that filled the cabin was finally shattered when the train whistled loudly, startling the occupants of the cabin out of their reverie. With a sigh that bespoke of his exasperation for him, Harry chuckled at the absurdity of the situation. "Don't be worried. I won't threaten to join your house if you talk with me."

Hannah let out a weak laugh, the blush that formed on her face at his entrance receding as she laughed but when Harry shifted his gaze to her with a smile on his face, the blush came back with a vengeance and she ducked her head to hide her embarrassment. Susan nudged her friend with an elbow, her own smile blossoming on her tanned face and encouraged by this simple reaction, Harry breathed in relief. "So, I happened to be in Diagon Alley when I came across our new defense Professor…."

It was good thing that Harry had enough interesting experiences in his life to fill the silence when it invaded the cabin again and slowly, his other companions began to tell their own tales, though they occasionally glanced at him apprehensively, as though they thought that their stories might not be captivating enough to demand the attention of 'the Harry Potter' but such moments declined drastically when he informed them of his own share of embarrassing moments – and there were a lot of them.

Though it was an entirely pleasant experience for Harry, he could not deny that the whole time his instincts were going haywire, constantly alerting him of his actions, for abuse didn't have to be physical to leave a mark. It was beyond painful to disregard his basic instincts but the results were satisfying enough to balance the pain he endured. Some of the misconceptions the students of his _own year_ held about him were bewildering and had he been confining himself to his own comfort zone, he was sure that he would've paid the price – in blood.

He left the cabin with a serene smile on his face, the farewells of the students still ringing in his ears but the smile lost its vigor when he noticed the direction he was traversing in – To the Slytherin side. The people in the cabins stared at him curiously, although there were a few sneers and scowls but Harry was immune to the reactions of stupid people by now. A smirk replaced the delicate smile on his face as he found the cabin he was searching for and he slid open the door to the compartment with a bang.

Paying no mind to the startled silence that greeted his appearance, he collapsed down on the seat beside Draco Malfoy. "So, Malfoy, how are you doing on this pleasant day?"

Draco bristled visibly at the question, his pale face reddening as a scowl made its way onto his face. "What are you doing here, Potter? Got tired of your lackeys?"

"Not really", Harry shrugged as he scanned the occupants of the cabin. Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy. Hmm, a curious bunch. Evidently, Malfoy's own lackeys were missing. Doing his bidding for him? "As you made it your duty to greet me every time we board the express, I presumed that it's only proper for me to greet you in person, for once."

"Are you now?" Draco scoffed with disdain apparent on his face. "Tell me, aren't you here to gloat about the elf you pilfered from the Malfoy Family?"

"Oh, that too", Harry nodded with a smirk. "How is your father, Malfoy? I am sure that Lucius Malfoy must be rather winded up after that harrowing fight in Diagon Alley. Are the House elves taking good care of him?"

Surely, this joke could never get old. Or less funny.

Draco rose from his seat, shaking with fury but Harry remained seated, coolly staring at the Malfoy heir. "You will pay dearly for your transgression, Potter. The Malfoys never forget a slight against their family and when the day arrives, I will be there, laughing wholeheartedly as you suffer."

"Are they your words or something your father inculcated into your impressionable mind?" Harry wondered as he stroked his chin contemplatively. "You are not a moron, Draco. Don't act like one because you are inclined to do so, for I am not here to indulge in a petty squabble over the things you or I did in the past. How about we start again?"

Draco scorned at his proposal, looking down on Harry as his lips curled in contempt. "You wish, Potter. There will never come a day when I will shake hands with a filthy half-blood like you."

With that, Draco stormed out of the cabin, entirely forgetting the fact that he was one who initially offered his hand to Harry and seeing Draco leave, Parkinson and Nott hurried out of the cabin to follow their leader. "That could have gone better,"

Not that he was expecting any teary reunions between long lost friends but he could have riled up Malfoy a bit more before he left the cabin. Well, this was no Utopia to have everything going his way. "So, Miss Greengrass. Not to sound like a broken record but how are you on this pleasant morning?"

"If you have any regard for your safety, you will not infuriate Malfoy anymore, Potter."

'Does anyone in here respond normally to a greeting?' Harry lamented with a sigh

"You speak as though you don't know me, Miss Greengrass", Harry shook his head morosely. "If I had any regard for myself, I wouldn't even be here, would I? Though it does please me that you are concerned about my safety."

"In your dreams", Daphne replied, with nary a twitch or an inclination in her tone. He truly envied her skill at restraining her emotions and if he was even half as good as her at this thing, he wouldn't have found himself in more than half of the life threatening situations he usually dealt with. "Your silly spats with Malfoy merely annoy me, for it disturbs the peace I rarely find in this school."

"Is that so?" Harry leaned back in his seat, completely ignoring the other two occupants in favor of the blond haired girl. Her icy blue eyes were staring out of the window, though they occasionally did traverse his way and the straight blond hair glided in the wind that drifted through the cabin. Her light skin tone was strangely devoid of any color, making Harry wonder if the girl ever blushed in her whole life and her cherry blossom pink lips were set in a straight line, as though someone glued her lips to never open. "Had you informed me about your concealed displeasure, I would have never indulged in such trivial misconduct."

"You cannot fool me with your beguiling words, Potter", Daphne folded her arms across her chest as she shifted her gaze to him. "Your words are worth nothing when your actions clearly reflect your intentions."

"To even think that you have such steely confidence in me is astonishing", Harry remarked as he placed a hand over his heart. "My fragile soul can bear no more of your enchanting presence, Miss Greengrass."

With that passing remark, he swept out of the cabin, his heart racing as he mulled over what had just occurred. Did he actually banter with another girl and that too, the ice queen of Slytherin? How in the hell did he even manage to talk without stuttering like a fool and was that even him uttering those wizened words?

'My fragile soul can bear no more of your enchanting presence, Miss Greengrass?' When on earth did he even become a freaking poet? Damn, his reputation as an innocent imbecile was clearly suffering because of this wretched plan.

"You little minx!" Tracey exclaimed the moment the door shut after the green eyed boy. "Did you just flirt with 'The Harry Potter?'"

"Surely you jest", Daphne scrunched up her brows in thought, making her delighted friend palm her face in exasperation.

* * *

One thing that Harry had never suspected himself of doing in his seven years at Hogwarts was sneaking into a girl's bathroom. Even after disregarding the fact that he was coming across to people as _intelligent,_ no one could ignore the fact that he stooped so low that he was currently standing in front of the sink in the said bathroom. Apparently, people might suspect something if they noticed him entering the place, so, Riddle proposed that he should do it when the entire school was busy with sorting. A sound plan, if Harry might say so, but he was given no choice upon the matter.

Staring at the snake engraving on the metal tap, he channeled his inner Parselmouth and hissed at the sink. _"Open!"_

The tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin rapidly. The very next moment, the sink sank down into the floor, revealing a large pipe which could be enough for a large man to slide into. But Harry was not worried about people sliding in but about gigantic snakes slithering out. According to the Diary, the snake would not attack its master and in this case, the master was Harry himself and though he had no option but to believe riddle, Harry was sure that the Diary was not lying.

Not because Harry suddenly found it in himself to trust the sinister book or was sympathetic enough to its cause but because Dobby was currently standing beside him, clutching the diary in one hand and the mirror in another hand. If Harry was killed then the Diary would be destroyed. Simple and Plain. Harry did not inform the Diary that in the future, he was the sworn nemesis of Voldemort, so, at the moment, the Diary had no reason to murder him gruesomely. At least, Harry liked to think so.

Ignoring the pounding in his chest, Harry positioned himself in the pipe and after inhaling deeply, he pushed forward. If Harry ever had the regret that he never rode a water slide then his regrets were dissipated into thin air as this experience was no different from how he imagined a water slide would be. Although a water slide was usually not coated with grime and there would be no Basilisk that could kill with a glance waiting on the other end, Harry could agree that this experience was no less exhilarating. Behind him, he could hear distinct thuds after his own, as Dobby's frail body collided with the pipes at each turn and he found assurance in the fact that he at least had a companion who would never betray him.

The pipe straightened out at the end and they found themselves landing in an inglorious heap on the dirty floor. They were greeted by a giant snake skin and Harry felt his courage seep out his body as he comprehended the mere size of the snake. The entire pathway was cluttered with bones of dead animals and Harry tried his best to not let his eyes wander in search of a human skeleton.

The tunnels stretched on and on, twisting and turning after every few meters and Harry wondered if this place was actually this huge or he was merely perceiving it this way because he was truly terrified out of his wits. Behind him, Dobby was mumbling to himself incoherently and if he did hear the words, 'get killed' or 'huge snake', Harry paid them no mind. Finally, they came across a solid wall, with two entwined serpents carved into the stone, with their eyes set with glinting emeralds.

With another command, the snakes parted as the wall slid open and Harry found himself standing at the end of long, dimly lit chamber. He ambled forward, ignoring the creepy snake statues that seemed to follow him as walked and as their steps echoed hollowly in the eerie silence, Harry prayed that they could find the snake to be dead from starvation.

Then, as they drew level with the last pillar, a statue as high as the chamber itself loomed into view – standing against the back wall. What drew their undivided attention was not the fairly impressive statue but the gigantic murky green Basilisk that constricted the inanimate statue, with its jaws open as though it was waiting for their arrival.

Judging by the whisper that reached his ears, there was no doubt that the snake was indeed waiting for their arrival. ' **Kill'.**

* * *

 **Author's Note: A chapter that paves the way for the plot to continue. So, do you like it?**

 **Do you readers think that Harry is acting arrogant by assuming that he can take on a Basilisk and come on the winning side? Or by believing that he will be unaffected by a diary of Voldemort himself?**

 **Or do you think that rushing into danger for better prospects fits his character?**

 **The next update will probably be on Wednesday**


	5. Heart of a chamber

"Conversations"; 'Thoughts'; **"Diary Writing";** _"Parseltongue"_

 **Disclaimer: Anyone can smile when they are happy. Admirable are those who can smile when they are six feet below the ground.**

* * *

Judging by the whisper that reached his ears, there was no doubt that the snake was indeed waiting for their arrival. **"Kill."**

Harry never considered himself to be a brilliant tactician or a strategist, as he usually left that tedious work in the responsible hands of Hermione Granger and now he regretted that he never indulged in one of her brainstorming sessions, for if he did, he surely wouldn't have jumped down a grimy tunnel, equipped with merely a wand and a broken shard of a mirror.

It was only due to his previous year, filled with life threatening situations, was he being able to stand in the face of the fifty-foot monster and did not quell instantly under the buckling strain on his knees. His loyal elf was quivering beside him, barely retaining the grip he had on the diary and the mirror when they almost dropped down on the sludgy floor. Gaining confidence from the presence beside him, although one could attribute that fact to his life-saving tendencies, Harry bravely took a step forward, with his eyes closed and wand held securely in hand.

The Basilisk took its sweet time to slither down the gigantic statue, constantly hissing demoralizing words like ' _kill', 'Blood',_ and though he was scared out of his wits, Harry had to applaud the snake for its ingenuity of scaring its prey to death before savoring them lazily for as long as it could. Harry could distinctly hear the rippling of the murky water on the floor as the snake slithered over to them, the bones of the dead animals shattering under its massive form and with a gulp Harry forced down the bile that rose in his throat.

" _Wait!"_ Harry shouted in parseltongue as he felt the Basilisk nearing them and to his surprise, the Basilisk actually halted in its tracks and taking courage from this fact, he dared to take another step. _"There is no reason for you to kill us if not for the food we might probably be but if you do not hurt us, we will provide you with much more than a scrawny human body and a deprived house elf."_

" _Kill", was its only reply._

His hopes plummeted to the ground as he heard the word and mentally, he prepared himself for the battle that was sure to happen. His heart pounded on his ribcage in protest and for one frightening moment, Harry was about to jump into battle without any regard for consequences until his mind rebooted again as the fear skyrocketed. 'Why am I so adamant at fighting this thing? Surely, there can be other ways, if not bribery. While proclaiming about practicing rationality, I am being a hypocrite by not doing so myself.'

" _If you kill me, you will have to stay in this chamber forever, alone and hungry. You will not have a chance at gaining a master again, for I am the last living heir of Slytherin and the only Parselmouth alive. Do you want to go back to the life of eating insects and rats?"_

Not entirely true but the fifty-foot Basilisk didn't have to know that, did it?

" _Kill",_ came the reply again.

'How stupid could this Basilisk even be? Does it even know any word other than 'Kill' or 'Blood'?' Harry thought with a sigh until his crazy mind latched onto that single thought. 'Wait a minute. Maybe it forgot how to speak the common language after so many centuries? The only words it retained can be those two, for they are basic instincts for any living being on this planet. The desire for survival.'

"Dobby, can you acquire a ton of meat from the kitchens in Hogwarts? There must be somewhere they cook the food, right?" Harry furrowed his brows in thought as he turned to his elf while the Basilisk patiently – only god knows why it was waiting – rested ahead of them

Dobby nodded eagerly in return, with his eyes still closed. "Yes, Harry Potter sir. Dobby knows where the kitchens are and Dobby will get the food from the Hogwarts elves."

With that information, Dobby vanished, leaving Harry alone, with only a horrifying Basilisk as a companion. Apparently, elves cooked the food in Hogwarts and considering that he never stumbled upon any elf, they surely work in secret in a place widely unknown to most of the inhabitants of the school.

Only a few seconds later, during which Harry was struggling with his unbearable urge to bolt out of the place, Dobby reappeared but this time, with a car size of meat along with it. Abruptly, rapid hissing echoed in the chamber and Harry assumed that the Basilisk must have become anxious at the sight of the food.

Barely wasting any moment with pointless comments, for the Basilisk might grow restless and suddenly decide to eat them for a change, Harry levitated the food over to the hungry snake and judging by the squelching sounds that filled the chamber, the Basilisk was feasting on the meat. A shudder wracked Harry's body at the thought that they might have been in the place of the meat, if not for the fact that the Basilisk was conscious enough to listen to reason and as Dobby shifted nervously on his feet, Harry deduced that his elf was faring no better.

The Basilisk devoured the food frighteningly quick, proving how hungry it actually was and after waiting a few seconds for the Basilisk to gain any semblance of control, Harry spoke again. _"Are you satisfied?"_

Faster than a blink of an eye, the Basilisk rushed over to them, making Harry jump back in fright but it was futile, for, within a second, the Basilisk completely circled them, confining them to the circle. Evidently, it answered the question with actions instead of words. No, I am still hungry enough to eat a school boy and his elf.

But what he didn't expect was to the feel the rough hide of the Basilisk stroke his body gently. _"Master."_

" _Not to sound ungrateful but can you please close your eyes until I say otherwise?"_ It was a good that thing that even with a Basilisk at such close proximity to his vulnerable body, Harry retained enough coherence to address the most pressing issue first before delving into other – nonfatal – matters.

" _Master",_ the Basilisk hissed in reply and Harry presumed that this must be the indication that it had its eyes closed. Once again placing his trust in sentient beings that possess a high chance of killing him, Harry slowly opened his eyes and to his relief, he was not turned into stone as he stared at the gigantic form of the Basilisk once again. After exhaling heavily, Harry deflated like a balloon, for no matter how courageous he might appear on the outside, he was still a scared twelve-year-old on the inside. With one hand massaging his temples, Harry placed his other hand on the crown of the Basilisk before patting awkwardly.

Now that he had a chance to gaze upon the mighty creature, Harry floundered back as he noticed the proximity of its poisonous fangs to his body. Blackish green scales garnished its body, glinting as they reflected the light and scarlet plume decorated its head and contrasting with the vivid green scales were its brown fangs, that aligned perfectly with each other in a way of barring the entrance to its mouth. He was unsure of what color its eyes were but he was not intent to find out. Definitely not.

Though Riddle had advised that Harry must command the snake with unshakeable dominance to procure complete control over the Basilisk, Harry was no nefarious Dark Lord to prove his superiority to beings that have their own right to freedom. Admittedly, his gentle approach had never failed him or resulted in him being brutally murdered, so, until such a thing happened, he could stick with his way of dealing with things.

" _So from now on, you will not kill anybody unless I say so and in return_ _for your generosity, I will provide you with food when required"._

The Basilisk hissed in what might have been a protest but after Harry further explained its situation if it didn't agree, it calmed down and had it not been a fifty-foot snake, Harry would've chuckled at its petulant hiss. Apparently, living without a master for centuries – Riddle only stayed for a year, so, that time could be disregarded and it wouldn't take a genius to guess that Riddle was no altruist to look after the Basilisk – had mollified the aggressive nature of the creature and it was highly eager to accept anything he said. Not that Harry would exploit the creature for his sinister plans.

After another few minutes, during which Dobby was eagerly scouting the chamber since the Basilisk was no longer a threat, Harry rose from his position on the grimy floor as he was sure that he had sufficiently explicated the terms of this agreement – Not really an agreement when the Basilisk was utterly willing to listen to anything he had to say – and sauntered over to where Dobby was cavorting.

Clearly, Dobby missed his usual work of cleaning the house and when presented with an opportunity to do so, he poured all of his skills into modifying the chamber into a place as hospitable as possible. The results were astonishing, as the wetness of the floor was replaced by a dry hardness and the grime that stuck to the walls had vanished without a sign. The bones littering the floor were absent and the pungent odor that initially invaded the chamber was clearly missing. Not everything was perfect but if this was what Dobby could accomplish in minutes, then within days, this chamber might be as good as new.

With the gracious help of the Basilisk, Harry and Dobby reached the study behind the statue and with a hiss of " _open",_ the stone door slid open to reveal a dusty room with only a wooden rack decorating the interior. The rack appeared to be on the verge of collapsing down to the floor and warily, Harry approached the rack while Dobby indulged in his usual habit of dusting the room. Thankfully, the giant snake abandoned them in favor of resting in an enormous hole that appeared at the mouth of the statue and no one could blame him when he sighed in relief at the lack of its presence. Even if the Basilisk did sweeten up to him, he could not suppress the apprehension that took hold of his body at its presence and hearing Dobby's comments of 'Dobby is free from the green monster!', Harry was not only one who was relieved.

Most of the books were about rituals and since he heard from Dumbledore that Voldemort was obsessed with power, Harry was not surprised that Riddle began researching about Rituals from the age of sixteen itself. Not that he was repulsed by it, for, in the end, even he could agree that there was nothing called Dark or Light Magic. There was only power. Even in the Headmaster's own words, Rituals were not Dark magic, just an indistinguishable gray but, for now, Harry was interested in a different section of the gray arts other than Rituals.

He was lazily shuffling through the books and most of them had no names to recognize their content with a glance but one book was situated snugly between two large tomes, appearing utterly innocuous but what drew Harry to the black book was that while the other books radiated danger, a certain threatening aura, this book was neutral in both appearance and feel, as though it was proclaiming itself to be different from all the other books and not in an explicable manner.

He thumbed the binding of the tome, admiring the rough texture that met his skin and with barely a thought he grabbed the book from its home. Similar to the other books, there was no name on the cover and with a bored expression stuck to his face, he flicked open the cover.

 **A Game of Shadows**

The title was utterly perplexing and surreptitious but the pertinent question was why there was no name of the author and even more puzzling was why it seemed to be hand written. His curiosity piqued, Harry leafed through the pages but his hand froze as he reached the third page, for the content seemed to be far too close to comfort as it was what he was desperately searching for a month.

' _The progress is hampered by the lack of activation energy, with the threshold being so close to reach yet too far for the magic that I have assimilated over the years. Raw magic is uncontrollable and until I lack a stable connection to reduce the leak of magical power, the efficiency can't be improved and as such, the process will be nothing but a foolish and futile venture. My other project of creating the Sorcerer's stone is currently under stasis, for the excessive destruction that it led to on the first trial and the instability of its power are factors that are not in my control at the moment. It is immensely aggravating that such unattainable ventures are so closely interrelated to each other and it is merely fate that led to this situation. Who could have predicted that altering the fundamental structure of such a simple object like a block can be so enigmatic? Reality distortion seems more like a distant dream with each passing day and it is at times like these that I can't help but marvel at the ingenuity of the Egyptians for creating something as phenomenal as the Pyramids with nothing but Reality distortion magics. Utterly baffling.'_

Closing the book and returning it to the shelf hurriedly, Harry rushed out of the room, with Dobby in tow and without wasting a moment, he leaped from the top with nary a thought. Just as he was about to land, he cast a cushioning charm and with a hasty bye to the giant snake resting in the mouth of the statue, Harry dashed to the exit.

* * *

They stepped out of the sink, with no Myrtle in sight, and after thanking his lucky stars, Harry found an empty classroom. At his request, Dobby brought a quill and ink and after procuring the diary from the hands of Dobby, Harry hastily scribbled on it. "Riddle."

" **So, I assume that the venture was a success?"**

"It was. But there are more pressing matters. Something that concerns a book in Slytherin's study."

" **You have my complete attention, Harry. Though it's certainly hard to comprehend what could be more important than a Basilisk that could kill you with merely a stare."**

"What do you know of the Reality Distortion magics?"

The reply took a few moments to appear, during which Harry found out that his palms were incredibly sweaty and he was fidgeting heavily. **"You surely ask dangerous questions, my dear Harry. It** **constantly** **makes me wonder who you really are."**

"Do not dodge, Riddle. Remember your promise? Everything you know, I have the right to know."

" **Of course. You don't hear me complaining, do you?"** Harry rolled his eyes at the poor joke. **"** **The fact that you know about it at your age is surprising but what's even more surprising is that you found the book. Are you certain that you are not an heir of Slytherin, Harry? But to answer your question, yes. Yes, I do but I am merely a beginner at the art when I was sixteen."**

Harry's hands were trembling with anxiety as he wrote. **"Can you teach me?"**

" **Ah, I cannot help but remember a quote by the Roman satirist Petronius.**

 _ **Mundus vult decipi: The world wants to be deceived.**_

 **If you are so eager to be lost, then who am I to argue. I will teach you, Harry Potter.** **But how far? That's the real question.** **"**

* * *

To say that Prof Mcgonagall was not pleased with his absence at the Sorting ceremony would be a vast understatement. Naturally, if his head of the House was displeased, then so was Hermione and not matter how many times he had reasoned that he was unbelievably sick, she was not convinced. After gleaning from Madam Pomfrey that he hadn't gone to her when he was unwell, Mcgonagall punished him with another detention, for the Gryffindor house had no points at the moment to deduct from.

So, that was why he was currently sitting in his Head of the House's office, staring uninterestedly at his surroundings as he waited for Prof Mcgonagall to arrive. He heard her footsteps before he had seen her and as the door opened, Harry slightly twisted in his seat to glance at her stern face.

"It appears that even after your reckless antics at the end of last year, which resulted in detention for _a month_ , you still haven't learned your lesson, Mr. Potter. It is imperative that you begin to behave properly, for I do not want to see you for another month", Mcgonagall took her seat and folded her hands on the desk.

"I believe I was properly chastised for that last year's prank", Harry leaned onto the desk to plead his case. "Is this detention truly necessary, Prof Mcgonagall?"

"That is not in my hands, Mr. Potter, as it was Prof Snape who demanded retribution", Mcgonagall poured tea into two small cups before pushing one towards Harry, who gratefully accepted it. "This detention is for missing the sorting ceremony."

"I knew it was Snape!" Harry yelled in annoyance, making the Professor glare at him for disrespecting a fellow Professor. "And I was sick, Prof Mcgonagall. Surely you believe me."

"You appear perfectly fine to me", Mcgonagall remarked as she placed her cup back on the desk. "Don't complain, Mr. Potter. It's only for an hour and after that, you are free to go."

Harry leaned back in his chair, knowing that he lost the argument and silently sipped his tea as he pondered over what he could do during this hour. The previous incidents were still on his mind, especially the book he left in the chamber and after this detention, there was a huge necessity to start making plans for this year. If the Basilisk was the only danger that plagued this year, then he might be free without any further accidents and he had to capitalize on this time. Considering that this year's defense professor was just another fool, he had to improve his skills on his own and even that would take a good chunk of his time.

Could he skip the History and defense classes? Harry took another glance at the woman in front of him, who was focused on the papers on her desk, and with a shudder, he concluded that he definitely couldn't if he didn't desire to incur the vengeful wrath of his head of the house.

'Altering the fundamental structure of a block', Harry remembered from the excerpt he read in the book. 'Doesn't altering objects come under Transfiguration? Does this mean that the first step to Reality distortion is Transfiguration?'

Making up his mind, Harry decided that he should make the most of these detentions he found himself in. After all, when he had a transfiguration master sitting in front of him, it would be a folly to remain idle.

"Professor?", Harry called out and Mcgonagall slightly raised her head to peer at him from the top of the paper she was reading. "Do we study the fundamental structures of objects in Transfiguration?"

McGonagall's eyebrows rose to hit her hairline and for a moment, Harry wondered whether it was a good thing to prod such subjects with such a skeptical woman. "I have heard from Headmaster Dumbledore that you were hiding your subtle talents and it's only time before you shine amongst your peers. Though I had no doubt about your talents, you can understand why I was skeptical as I know about your tendencies to get inexplicably reserved when showered with attention. It's good to know that you are coming out of your shell, Mr. Potter. After all, your father was a transfiguration expert and your mother herself was a master at charms and potions and was no slouch at any other Hogwarts subjects."

Harry's eyes widened slightly at the mention of his parents and his mind abruptly lost track of what he was intending to ask. "You knew my parents, professor?"

"Of course, Mr. Potter", A semblance of what seemed to be a smile appeared on McGonagall's face and Harry was reasonably derailed by that rare expression. "I was a professor for longer than what most people expect. I was the head of Gryffindor house even then and your parents are both sorted into my house. And just so you know, your dad was more troublesome than you are but his kind of trouble was intentional, though yours seemed to be something you simply cannot avoid."

Harry ducked his head in embarrassment at her knowing gaze but wisely refrained from either agreeing or disagreeing with her comments.

"But one thing I can say for sure is that, despite James' nonacademic exploits, both of them are brilliant students in their own right and I am sure that if you work diligently, it won't be much difficult for you to - in our Headmaster's own words - _shine."_

"Um, thank you?" Harry rubbed the back of his neck as he flushed under her gaze. "I'll try for sure to make them proud, Prof Mcgonagall."

"That's all I ask of you, M. Potter", McGonagall almost smiled for one last time before emulating her professional persona. "Personal things aside, you were asking a question, weren't you, Mr. Potter?"

"Ah, Yes", Harry straightened himself before leaning onto her desk. "Do we study the fundamental structures of objects in Transfiguration? Though we do try to imagine the final form of the object we are trying to transfigure, we never dig deeper, Professor. Like how its composition changes or the stepwise alteration of the object."

"That is true. The composition of objects does come under Transfiguration but in a much-advanced stage and at that point, transfiguration loses its inherent nature to evolve into a completely new subject. I have no idea whether you have heard of it or not but it is known as Transmutation, Mr. Potter and it is a branch of Alchemy. Unlike Transfiguration, every aspect and attribute of an object matters in Transmutation and knowing the composition of the object is the most basic step. I, myself, am well versed in the basics of Alchemy but your Headmaster, who was a Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts himself, is much more proficient at that obscure science."

Harry nodded as he contemplated about what he heard. What the professor said did match what the person wrote in that book, as the person was experimenting on the Sorcerer's stone and from last year's harrowing experience, he wouldn't forget about the certain object for his entire life. So if the person did succeed in his venture then there was no doubt who the man was but if the person failed, then it could be anyone who was an expert at Alchemy. Could it be Nicholas Flamel?

"So does that mean that as far as we stay within the boundaries of Transfiguration, the framework of an object does not matter?"

McGonagall crossed her fingers in front of her before resting her chin upon her hands. "That topic is a bit advanced for your reading purposes at the moment but since you are so interested, I can indulge your curiosity for a few moments."

"Yes, the composition does matter as you edge further along in your studies, Mr. Potter. A Button or a match stick or a ball are entirely made up of a single material but when you consider much complex inanimate objects or living beings, their framework differs a lot at a minute level. So unless you know what you are transfiguring, you cannot achieve your result perfectly and even if you do, sometimes it matters not if the composition changes independent of your actions. So while normal transfiguration is rather uncomplicated, advanced transfiguration like human transfiguration or animagus transfiguration does depend on upon the framework of the entity. But fundamental structure of an object is beyond the extent of transfiguration."

"What do you mean by animagus transfiguration, Professor?" Harry tilted his head in confusion as he stared intently at the professor, who appeared apparently nonplussed by his stare.

"Oh, would you look at the time!" McGonagall pointed out as she stood from her seat. "I would like to continue this discussion further, Mr. Potter, but I do not want to keep you waiting for long. It is already late as it is."

Knowing that he had no choice but to follow her orders, Harry reluctantly rose to his feet. "Thank you for your time, Prof McGonagall."

"Oh, it's been a pleasure, Mr. Potter", McGonagall waved him off as she stepped back into her office. "I only hope that you show similar enthusiasm in class. As you already know, I do not consent with slacking off in my class and it appears that you've been doing exactly that for the past year."

* * *

Harry chuckled as Professor McGonagall shut the door and digging his hands into his pockets, Harry began the dull stroll to the Gryffindor house. At least, it would've been dull if he hadn't stumbled upon one red-haired witch, who was religiously avoiding the light of the torches as she ambled through the corridors.

"Ginny!" the said girl jumped in fright before turning around with a wand in hand. "What are you doing here at this time?"

"Harry!" Ginny ran over to him before hugging him tightly. He would've been embarrassed but it was only after he felt a distinct wetness on his robe did he realize that she was crying.

"Woah!" Harry shouted in surprise before patting the girl on the back awkwardly. He had some idea about what do when girls were angry at him – one word. Hermione – but he had absolutely no experience with crying girls and if he had his way, then he never would. "Why are you even crying?"

It took a few moments for her labored breaths to level and with puffy red eyes that were as bright as her hair, she whispered hesitantly but in the silence of the night, it was not hard to hear what she uttered. "I am sorted into Slytherin."

* * *

 **Author's Note: A short and simple chapter with no major twists or much action. So do you like it?**

 **How many of you actually thought that Harry was going to fight with the Basilisk or even kill it?**

 **Can you guess who wrote the book? This question is totally unfair.**

 **Next update on Saturday.**


	6. Irrational Fear

**Disclaimer: Wishing for things to happen is foolishness, planning for things to happen is cleverness, making things happen is Greatness.**

 **I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

"I am sorted into Slytherin."

The first thought that struck his tired mind was not how it had happened or why it had happened but the feeling that she was making too big a deal out of this. It's just a house, right? Not as though she was sentenced to Azkaban or was forced to share a room with Draco Malfoy.

But then his mind backtracked to her current predicament and then it hit him that her family might not be as accepting of her house as he was and the members of the house definitely wouldn't be as uncaring as he currently was. Considering that two of her brothers constantly and ruthlessly pranked the students of Slytherin House while her youngest brother was a devout hater of the 'slimy snakes', her situation might not be merely confined to her sorting but to her entire stay at Hogwarts. Who wouldn't be ready to take out their pent up anger due to her brothers on an innocent first-year girl?

He snapped out of his stupor when he heard another sniffle and pulling her closer to him, he stroked her back as she sobbed over his shirt. "Had I known that the day I would see Ginerva Weasely cry would come so soon, I would've been more prepared for the shock."

She let out a watery chuckle but his poor joke made her situation no better and running a hand through his hair, he led her to the only person who might be able to help her. "I can't understand why you are so distressed. If the hat placed you in Slytherin, then there must be a good reason as I don't think that the old relic did things on a mere whim. Did it tell you why it placed you in Slytherin?"

Even though her head was ducked to hide her tear stained face, Harry could perceive her nod. "You know what my ambition initially was, right?"

"To marry the Boy Who Lived and live happily ever after?" Harry answered with a teasing smile and got an elbow to the ribs in return. "How could I forget? That stuff gave me nightmares of weeks, about a red haired girl in white dress chasing me all around Hogwarts with a flower bouquet in her hands."

Harry shuddered for added measure at that thought and he could see her flaming up as he reminded her of his spine-chilling nightmare.

"No one asked you to elaborate", she punched him on the shoulder, the blush clearly visible in the moonlight as they traversed through the corridors. "So, that used to my life ambition and I understand how silly it was but after meeting you for real and getting to know you for who you really are, it changed."

"Not that I don't like you now", she reminded with a glance sent his way and Harry rolled his eyes at her blatant declaration of her feelings.

"Your constant reminders made sure that I won't forget", Harry commented grouchily but she ignored him in favor of swabbing her tears with the sleeve of her robe.

"So, that dose of reality gave way for what I truly desired from life. From the childhood, I was just the little girl in a house full of adults and everyone looked at me as though I would shatter any moment. Then there was the palpable discrimination, that I couldn't do what all other boys in the house could and though my brothers might or might not realize how they were constantly undermining me simply because of my gender, I could. Every time, they played Quidditch or ran out into the nearby village to play or nagged our parents for a new broom. So I wanted to show that even if I was the baby girl or the seventh Weasely or utterly breakable, I could achieve what I want from life on my own."

"When the hat repeated all of these things that were churning in my mind to me, I couldn't argue with it that all of them were baseless lies and when the plans I made for my future attributed to cunning, there was nothing I could do but agree with it. I could have protested, you know? That no matter what, I want to be in Gryffindor but at that moment, everything that the hat was saying felt absolutely right and at least if I am the one to break the tradition in my family, the might recognize that I am different. That I am not the cry baby 'Gin-Gin' that I used to be."

Harry spoke nothing in return, for everything she uttered seemed so profound and earnest, that he felt that he would be sullying the moment for her if he interrupted with his stupid reassurances. Until now, his only fear was that the hat gave her no choice and she was unhappy with her sorting but it appeared that she made the life-changing decision in that split second of her sorting.

"See, I was proclaiming all about not being a cry baby but here I am, bawling in the corridors in the night where no one could even see me", Ginny remarked with a depreciating chuckle. "I should have been happy with what I had, not trying to rush out of the group, only to be left alone in the end."

"Hey! The courage it took for you make that decision is something half the people in entire Gryffindor don't accumulate over their entire year", Harry objected fervently, as they halted in their tracks to stare at each other. "Hell, even the hat decided to sort me into Slytherin but I didn't want to lose the only friends I ever had, so, I protested, no, fought with the hat to sort me into Gryffindor. There are still moments when I doubt my decision but once you made it, you have to stick with it, no matter what. You only have the choice to make the best out of what you have, Ginny and even if we desperately wished for the past to change, it wouldn't. Your courage outshines mine and if anyone is best suited for Gryffindor, then it's you! But still, if the hat placed you in Slytherin, then your dreams must be far more worthy than you courage and you should never abandon such precious dreams."

"You have every right to worry about it, Gin", Harry spoke after a few seconds. "But this is the path you chose and if you ever feel that you might slip out of your way, then I will be there to steady you. Even when everyone is on the other side, pushing you to reconsider your decisions."

"For wanting to avoid any relationship with me, you sure aren't making it any easier for me", Ginny mumbled, with a dark blush coating her cheeks and though it worried him to no end, at least it was better than tears or sniffles.

"Oh god, please don't remind me", Harry placed a palm on his forehead and began to stroll forward, with a contemplative redhead in tow. "I have enough things to worry about as it already is."

"So, I forgot to ask, where are we going?" Ginny skipped forward to face him, in a clear contrast to the morose girl before.

"To meet a greasy haired git in the Den of Snakes", Harry replied with a shiver. He would rather take a dive from the Astronomy tower before requesting Snape for anything but if the situation demands, then there was nothing Harry could do.

"Isn't that the Professor who hates you more than the entire school?"

"No need to jog my less than pleasant memories, Gin. I am not faring any better in here for you to add fuel to the fire."

They reached Snape's office and steeling his resolve, Harry knocked on the door once and waited patiently for the scary bat to appear. There was no need to knock more than once, for Harry was sure that the man could hear if his name was mentioned at the other end of the school and not failing his expectations, the door opened to reveal the miffed Professor.

"What tomfoolery are you up to at this time of the night, Potter?" Snape spit out grumpily, making the redhead beside Harry to take a step back in fright. "Though it might not be obvious to you, the professors do not lazily flit away their time in their office."

"Your unwavering trust in my behavior constantly amazes me, Professor", Harry retorted back while neutralizing his expression to not show his distaste. "But there are matters that concern a certain student of your house."

Snape shifted his piercing gaze to the nervous redhead. "Miss Weasely, you should not be roaming around after the curfew. I hope that you are not as rambunctious as your imbecilic brothers, for though Minerva might be tolerant enough to endure their idiocy, I do not consent with such behavior."

"Your forewarning is appreciated, Professor Snape", Harry interjected before the girl could faint out of fear. Would it kill the git to act pleasant for once in his whole miserable life?

"Are you dumb, Miss Weasely?" Snape snapped with his ever existing blank face. "I do not understand why Mr. Potter has to speak for you."

"No, sir", Ginny shook her head after channeling her inner courage.

"Then speak up for yourself. Or do you need Mr. Potter's presence beside you for the whole year to convey your messages?"

Ginny flushed as red as her hair and Harry had to grit his teeth to avoid firing any snide remarks in return. Why on earth did he even think that coming to this greasy haired bastard would solve anything? If the students failed to harass the girl, then her Head of the House was more than sufficient.

"She is apprehensive of her stay at the famed Slytherin House, as it is no secret that the Slytherin students are vicious at the object of their displeasure", Harry informed, taking pleasure from the way Snape narrowed his eyes slightly at the slight to his house.

"You can be assured, Miss Weasely, that I do not condone any sort of unruly behavior in my house and that does include bullying or any other form of intimidation. If you experience any such untoward behavior in the house, feel free to complain about that person or group to me. But keep this in mind that matters of the house must be dealt within the premises of the house. The inclusion of external parties is not allowed", Snape finished with a glance in Harry's direction.

"Thank you, Professor Snape", Ginny bowed slightly before twisting around on her heels and dashing away. Harry could not blame her, for, in the first year, even he was as terrified of Snape as she was and wouldn't have wasted a moment to escape from his charming presence.

"I appreciate your help, Professor", Harry inclined his head in a small nod. "I've heard that you care deeply about the members of your house and I only hope that such rumors are true. At least, for _her_ sake."

With the passing remark, Harry ambled in the direction Ginny vanished off to and had he looked back, he would've noticed the look of contemplation on Snape's deathly pale visage.

* * *

The next day, Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, with an eye out for the red headed Weasely who was repeatedly yawning as she had her breakfast. Apparently, the Weasely brothers made amends with their little sister, reassuring her that they do not mind if she was in Slytherin and that their hatred was only reserved for the bigots but Ron was still constantly muttering about something and Harry could swear that he heard 'snakeskin pouch' in the middle of the rant.

Dealing with the Mandrakes was a pain in the ass but knowing that they could cure people who were petrified, Harry made extra sure to hear every word of the professor, as a fail safe if the basilisk ever _accidentally_ petrified someone. He was hoping that the moron Gilderoy could get himself a good look at the Basilisk's eyes but well, such things might remain a dream as far as Harry was concerned.

The exasperated look Harry gave the question paper in his hands could have halted Dumbledore himself in his steps as he was certain that no one had ever annoyed him as much as the Narcissistic imbecile. Harry disliked Snape but annoyance? That was usually not aimed at adults but Gilderoy was just begging for it.

Clenching his fingers into fists, Harry restrained himself from crushing the paper and throwing it at the teeth flashing idiot, as it contained fifty-four questions that were utterly useless and solely centered upon the life of Lockhart. He had no idea what bewildered him more: Lockhart considering this garbage as test paper or Hermione scoring _full marks_ in the test. The fact that she was blushing like a fair maiden in a ball did not help matters.

Then Gilderoy released a group of _pixies_ in the class to create utter pandemonium and that was the breaking point for Harry. He rose from his seat just as a pixie grabbed Neville by the ear and brandishing his wand, he gave one large wave of his hand to encompass the whole room before shouting. "Arresto Momentum!"

All the Pixies in the air froze in their places, their eyes flicking wildly in fear and Neville fell down on his chair with a thud. Ignoring his wide-eyed classmates, he sauntered over to the beaming defense professor and placing his hand in front of Lockhart' face in imitation of a punch, he dropped the crumpled test paper in his hand to the ground.

The grin on Lockhart' face vanished in a blink of an eye and with at a blank expression on his face, Harry stormed out of the classroom, leaving his classmates to stare back and forth between the statue-like professor and the back of the green eyed boy.

Meanwhile, the pixies still remained suspended in the air, chattering in their shrill voices, waiting for someone to free them.

* * *

Harry sat by the desk in Slytherin's study, with a quill in hand and a diary in front of him. After the escapade in the defense classroom, he came straight into the chamber to relieve some of the stress and to feel as though he had learned something useful for the day.

"Where do we begin? Does it have a step-wise process or Do in have to wing it like I usually do?"

" **It will be another seven years before you learn anything with your 'usual' schedule, Harry. Every step in the process of mastering the forbidden arts is crucial and it is not like learning any subject like transfiguration or charms, where you can learn a few spells of a certain aspect before skipping on to the next topic."**

" **We'll begin with the most basic but highly important aspect of the forbidden arts: Mind Magics."**

Though Riddle couldn't see it, Harry's eyes widened behind his glasses. "What! I am not interested in mind magics, Riddle."

" **Oh. Do you think that you can directly leap into the area of Reality Distortion without even knowing how to shield your mind? Without even having an idea about how to protect your mind from external influences? You seem to have a skewed view about the forbidden magics, Harry."**

" **The forbidden magics are so closely interrelated that the moment you enter the diverse field, you will be lost in a maze...a labyrinth, to be precise. Every way is interconnected, Harry. One moment you could be learning Occlumency, the art of protecting your mind and the next moment you could be drawing runes on the floor to perform a ritual to sharpen your mind. The progress of an art is bound by another art, with each link chained to each other, so that when you tug at a string, you find yourself enveloped in a web."**

" **That is the reason why the number of people who practice the forbidden arts are so low, for even if you possess information about one obscure art, you need the knowledge about the other two arts to become at least barely proficient in it. Every master Occlumens or every master Legilimens would've performed at least one Ritual in their lifetime and every rune master must be an expert at Occlumency."**

" **And at the center of this deceiving web of arts lies the Illusion magics and to even encourage the thought of pursuing your dream of becoming the master of illusions, you must be a master at the mind magics and Ritual magics. So, are you ready to willingly learn these arts? Willing to leave all your foolish preconceptions about magic at the doorstep before entering? Willing to accept that you do not fear to tread the boundaries of dark and light? If not, this is as far as you can go, Harry."**

" **I am not saying that becoming a master at charms or Transfiguration or defense is not a worthy goal or that they are simple accomplishments. The pioneers in those fields are no less powerful but to cross the boundaries and stand on the edge of the horizon, you need to be willing to submit yourself to the omnipotent entity, that is magic itself. Fear for an aspect of magic is no different from fearing magic as a whole and if you cannot overcome that fear, you are not worthy."**

Harry placed the quill on the desk, leaning his elbows on the desk before resting his head on his joined hands. 'Do I fear magic?'

The answer was an obvious 'yes', for anyone who was introduced to this world a year ago would end up fearing the omnipotence of the energy flowing inside them. Humans fear the things they don't understand and in that sense, as long as he couldn't be sure about what he was getting himself into, the fear would remain, for its the most basic instinct of any being on this planet. The same instinct that guided you away from danger, the same instinct that made you dread the blazing flames, the same instinct that stopped you from taking that delightful leap from the tower; Fear. The fear that ensured our continued survival.

But similarly, a newly born child would have every reason to fear the people around him, including their own parents but eventually, as a trust was built upon the experiences, the fear faded away into the background and faith replaced it in the heart. That trust emerged from the belief that the person wouldn't hurt you and hence fearing the person was irrational. Illogical.

So, could he place the same trust in magic to never turn its back on him? From his experiences? Of course, not. But then the fear would remain forever, concealed behind a wall of courage but constantly lurking in the depths of your mind. How could you not fear something that was so out of your imagination that facts themselves were stranger than fiction? Where even the deepest philosophies lay helpless in face of the ubiquitous entity and your premonitions were smothered by mysteries?

How could he overcome the fear that was frighteningly instinctual?

He stared at his fingers, flexing his hand as he watched them extend and clench and suddenly, like a flicker of a faulty lamp, a stray thought hit his mind. 'Does he fear his fingers or the hands that could accomplish so much?'

Surely, not. No sane person would fear his own limbs. But why? Because they were a part of the body? Because they were completely under one's control that they never found the need to fear them?

In the end, everything led to the fact that you don't fear something that was an inherent part of you or if it was something that was completely under your control, right? But a child couldn't completely control his legs before he could walk, so, did it mean that he should possess a rational fear towards his legs? Of course, not. A part of you couldn't hurt you, at least not without your consent

Then why should he fear his own magic? The magic that flowed in his veins. The magic that was born along with him and was an inherent and significant part of who he was? The fear was meaningless.

Riddle patiently waited for Harry to reach a conclusion and secretly thanking Riddle for his courtesy, for one should never raise the ego of a sentient object that could kill them, Harry wrote in the diary. "I am ready."

" **Excellent, Harry. If it means anything to you, it took days for me to reach the state you are currently in. The state where you feel utterly invincible and is in complete sync with your magic. So, let's make haste. For by the time you finish the first lesson of Occlumency, your feeling of invincibility will dissipate into thin air."**

* * *

Harry stumbled out of the sink, with one hand holding his throbbing head in a vice grip while the another hand was blindly grasping the thin air for any support. He should never have acquiesced to Riddle's demands of testing his defenses by placing a hand on the diary while Riddle would try his best to possess him. Not that the diary was actually trying hard, for Riddle was merely prodding at his shields to discern the gaps and another reason could be that Dobby was beside Harry with the mirror in his hand to prevent Harry from being truly possessed.

But Riddle's caution meant nothing as right now, Harry was feeling as though his head might split open at any moment and his brain would leak out as squishy juice. Oh, god. That image itself gave him another migraine. His usually pale scar was now an angry red, threatening to rip open and judging by the warm blood that met his fingers, it probably did.

Staggering out of the bathroom, Harry steadied himself to not appear as though he was mindlessly drunk and taking a huge gulp of air, he trudged forward. Just as he turned around the corner, he noticed a blond haired girl, tagged along by her brown haired friend. At the sight of the two Slytherin girl, Harry hastened his steps.

"Ah, Miss Greengrass. I was hoping to that I could have a small chat with you", Harry called out as he reached them, with a hand still massaging his temples.

"Why is it that every time I see you, you appear to be nursing a headache?" Daphne shifted the school bag in her hands into a more comfortable position, already expecting that this conversation was going to be a long one.

"Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me, Miss Greengrass", Harry remarked as he fell in step with them. "But why my head never seems to agree with me is a discussion for another time."

"Do you want me to add this to the long list of mysteries surrounding you, Potter?" Tracey commented from the other side of Daphne, with a teasing smirk on her face. When did they even become that amiable?

"Hello to you too, Miss Davis", Harry greeted with a wave before returning the hand to his head once again. "And I wasn't aware that someone's keeping a list."

"Oh, they certainly are", Tracey nodded with a finger to her lip. "The last entry I know was after you froze thirty pixies in the defense classroom with a single spell and stormed out of the classroom. Did you know that Professor Flitwick had to arrive to free them?"

"Really?" Harry inquired with feigned surprise that didn't manage to fool anyone. "If I had known that our prodigious defense professor could have faced such trivial problems, I would have made sure to free them before I rushed out."

"Such chivalry", Daphne interrupted with a deadpan. "It almost makes me wonder if there might a decent boy hiding behind that facade of imprudence."

"You should have tried that tone with the pixies, Miss Greengrass. Wouldn't have taken a moment to freeze them", Harry retorted, though there was no bite behind his tone. After all, such good banter was not usually found in these brazen halls.

"Yes. Prancing around, disrupting the serenity and creating pandemonium out of habit. The pixies do remind us of a certain Gryffindor, don't you think, Tracey?"

"I'll have you know that Ron doesn't prance around. Swagger? Yes. Prance? Definitely no. But speaking about the red headed Gryffindor reminds me of the issue I wanted to discuss with you", Harry paused his lazy stroll to meet the icy blue eyes of Daphne Greengrass.

"You were here for a reason? Oh, I apologize for not presuming that fact", Daphne smiled sweetly and had he been the Harry Potter he was in his first year, he would've mistaken the insult for a genuine apology.

"Don't worry, Miss Greengrass. Presumptions seem to elude you and as such, the blame is entirely mine for not taking the time to _properly_ elucidate my reasons", Harry smiled in return but before Daphne could retaliate, her vexed friend interrupted.

"Can you people stop bickering for one second? It's actually getting on my nerves", Tracey mumbled as she stepped between them.

Harry opened his mouth but a glare from the brown haired girl shut him up. "Don't you dare."

"Fine!" Harry consented as he raised his hands in surrender. "So, one of my dear friends is sorted into the Slytherin house and considering her family, she might get a load of trouble for merely existing in the house."

"You are talking about that Weasley girl, right?"

Harry nodded in reply. "Yes. Her name is Ginny Weasley and though Snape assured that she will be safe, I need an inside person to look out for her if the need ever arises. Nothing that may burden you. Just watch out for any trouble that might concern her and if you can, please deal with it or inform me if possible. That's all I request of you."

"And what do we get in return?" Daphne inquired, with a judging glint in her eye. "I do not mind helping a hapless person but it's not the Slytherin way to go out of your turn to aid others without any incentive."

"You'll have my eternal loyalty in return", Harry offered, scrutinizing their expression for any changes. These Slytherin's were far too adept at hiding their emotions. "And if that is not enough of an incentive, then you can ask a reasonable favor of me at any time and I will fulfill it without protest. Any favor."

The girls glanced at each other before nodding. "Then it's settled", Harry sighed in relief. "You have no idea how much a help you girls are being."

"Why do you care about her so much?" Daphne's voice was laced with curiosity but her friend still had to suppress an excited giggle.

"She is my friend, Miss Greengrass", Harry replied nonchalantly. "I will do anything for the people I care about."

"That's...good", Daphne nodded to herself before twisting in her heels and sauntering away with her friend in tow.

"Bye, Potter", Tracey waved hurriedly before following her stoic friend with a smile plastered on her face.

Harry waved back, feeling vaguely confused. "These girls are seriously detrimental to my mental health."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Finally, a normal chapter. I feel so accomplished.**

 **No questions for today, my cute readers. Enjoy the weekend! But not before leaving a review.**


	7. Memorable Mystery

**Disclaimer: We desire deception. Not to obtain pleasure but to forget the pain.**

 **I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

The desolate chamber lying beneath the school was illuminated with sudden flashes of bright light and the air was crackling with magic as a green eyed boy practiced some of the offensive spells he recently learned. The target of his spells was the slimy body of a blackish green basilisk and though his spells were far more powerful than those of any second year at Hogwarts, there was barely a scratch on the basilisk's thick hide.

In fact, the fearsome snake seemed to be enjoying the treatment, occasionally releasing a delighted hiss as the spells tickled the skin it was about to shed. The hisses were not helping Harry with his barely existent focus and with rising annoyance, he increased the power behind the spells.

But no matter how large his magical core might be, he was still a budding wizard and as such, he fell to his knees after a few moments, with sweat dripping down his forehead to fall on the damp floor.

After a few minutes, the young wizard found himself staring at the high ceiling of the chamber as he laid down on the snake with his hands supporting his head and releasing a contented sigh, he let his eyelids droop. He would've lost himself in a dreamless sleep if not for the successive hoots that reached his ears.

Hedwig landed beside him, with a reproachful hoot, and a moment later, Harry found himself to be the recipient of an amber-eyed glare. "No, I am not replacing you, Hedwig. How did you even reach that conclusion?"

"Of course, not. I was just a little busy these days. And how did you think that I can use a Basilisk to send my letters?"

Nearly an hour ago, Harry was about to dive into the sink when out of nowhere his snowy white owl glided into the pipe and by the time they reached the other end, Harry was already sporting a few cuts on his arms. Evidently, she was not happy that he ignored her after he came to school and Harry had no reason to argue with that claim but that did not mean that he essentially forgot about his beloved owl.

His apology didn't appease the proud owl and hence that was why he was currently resting on the back of a giant snake with his owl beside him. How did he even end up in such a situation?

The Basilisk, being a female named 'Lyssa', formed an instant bond with Hedwig, though it try to swallow the bird a few times but a hiss of warning was enough to cease its attempts. Hedwig thought that it was a fun game and Harry was definitely not in a position to show his dissent.

With an I'm – too – tired – to – even – be – moving sigh, he jumped to the ground before making his way to the Slytherin study. Learning Occlumency was certainly not one of his favorite past-times but as the days progressed, the results were clearly palpable.

Though his progress was not slow in any sense of the word, Riddle reckoned that Harry was a natural legilimens – Just like Riddle himself. No need to point out another similarity between him and Voldemort – and though Harry couldn't practice Legilimency with a diary of all things, Riddle suggested that Harry was free to use it on any of his classmates for light practice.

Harry might have become a bit uncaring about his use of magic but he was not heartless to invade the privacy of his fellow students, with or without their consent. Riddle's only answer was a scoff – written in the diary.

So, for now, his mind reading ability was put to a side to bring other, more important, aspects to the forefront and as such, Harry currently found himself sitting at the same desk as usual, with the same diary in front of him.

" **Are you ready to be possessed, Harry?"**

"Don't make it sound like that. I am reluctant as it is", Harry wrote back with a roll of his eyes.

" **I simply want you to grasp the gravity of the situation. Don't want my 'master' to be in trouble, after all."**

"I highly doubt that."

Not a moment later, Harry was mentally shielding his mind from a full front ramming from something not dissimilar to a sledgehammer and when even after a few batterings the shield persisted, the presence vanished from his mind. Harry breathed a sigh of relief but within less than an instant, another, much forceful, attack hit his shield, near the vicinity of his scar and his shield burst like a punctured soap bubble.

His emerald green irises turned a shade of bright crimson and his tan skin paled to an extent that he could pass off as a Malfoy.

Harry Potter or to be precise, Tom Riddle, flexed his fingers, fascinated by the body he was in and with the wand in his pocket, he cast a few silent spells that were powerful enough to put a hole in the wall beside him. With another lazy wave of the wand, Riddle repaired the destroyed wall and after deeming that he had spent enough time in this body to raise suspicions in the boy, he reentered the diary.

Harry took a huge gulp of air, feeling as though he was drowned in an ocean for an hour and it did not help that he was magically exhausted from his practice before. Clutching his throbbing forehead in his hands, he drank a headache-relieving potion he procured from the hospital wing. Poppy insisted that she would cast a few diagnostic spells but Harry ran the moment his fingers tightened around the vial of potion in his hands. He might have to brew the potion on his own after a while, as Poppy's skepticism seemed to rise with his each visit.

Though he was clearly exhausted, Riddle didn't take pity on him, the bastard, and they continued the lesson but every time Riddle prodded his shield near the vicinity of his scar, it shattered like a mirror dropped from the Astronomy tower. With each attempt, his shield deteriorated further until Riddle just had to proverbially blow the air and he would be on his knees at the mercy of the book.

To his solace, Riddle complied with his request of taking a long needed break and closing the diary, he grabbed the 'Game of shadows' book from the shelf and reopened the page he was hoping to read.

* * *

' _It came as quite the surprise when some of the spells I cast had no effect on the cloak. It was immune to detection charms, summoning charms and even tracking charms. For anyone, it might seem like I got the short end of the stick but I am immensely grateful that I had a choice in the first place. Now I live each day, looking over the shoulder in search of an entity that was as old as magic itself._

 _My brothers made the choice to wander the world while I decided to remain in my humble cottage and continue my work. Antioch was beyond himself and he did not seem eager to heed my words of warning. The wand was going to be the death of him, I'm sure, but he was always the most daring. Most courageous and undoubtedly, the most powerful of the three of us. But the entity we were against was no mere wizard to best in a duel. These gifts seem more and more like a curse with each passing day._

 _I did not hear from Cadmus since the day we parted ways. He seemed to wallow in self-pity and the stone was just the gateway for him to delve even deeper into the wretched emotion. But as my mother constantly made sure to remind us, we were not children, although Antioch might disagree in my case and we were entitled to our own decisions. But was it unusual of a little brother to worry?_

 _The magic infused within the cloak was unlike anything I had ever seen. It emitted a purple aura, not surprising considering that it was once the part of that being but what was baffling was that except the aura, there was nothing to show that this cloak was magical. As though it was a part of something otherworldly and indeed, it was._

 _But this gave me the idea to push the progress further as all this time, I was assuming that Reality Distortion magic was similar to the magic we utilized daily. One look at the ethereal being and now I knew how foolish I was. So, It made sense that it was beyond the realm of normality._

 _Antioch gave a gravelly laugh when he heard about my project. He believed that such power was not in the hands of humans to command. 'Reality Distortion is a fool's errand, Ignotus', he said. But this cloak renewed the hope in me. That there existed something far beyond the comprehension of any mortal. If not today, someday, I will discover the Illusion magics._

 _My other project of creating the Sorcerer's stone was handed down to my apprentice. Nicholas was immensely proud of my faith in him and staring at the resolve in his electric blue eyes, I believed for a moment that he might succeed where I failed. He had no idea about the cloak and if I had my way, then it would stay that way until I take the secret to my grave. No one should be burdened by this nefarious power._

 _I am currently wearing the cloak, contemplating whether it brought any changes to the spells I cast. Unfortunately, there was no difference. So I thought until the essence of the incomplete Sorcerer's stone touched the hem of the cloak and the reaction was spellbinding._

 _My hands were trembling with anxiety. Did I witness the first ever display of the power of Illusion magics?'_

* * *

While Harry was immersed in the shady book, Riddle was contemplating about a few things he recently found since Harry had begun practicing Occlumency. Though the possessive power of a Horcrux was not something to scoff at, it shouldn't be as easy as Riddle currently made it be.

Taking into account that the diary was powerless until it was found by Harry Potter, the process of subjugating another mind must consume a lot of magical power and though Harry was liberal with his use of the evil object, he was still cautious to make sure that he was not providing the diary with sufficient arsenal to stage an uproar – Which simply meant that the diary would be the one in control.

But what was actually happening in the Slytherin study defied all logic and in an act of completely negating basic common sense, it was too easy for Riddle to possess the boy. Theoretically, the higher the inherent magical power, the tougher the process of subjugation must be and considering that the boy could easily cast a fourth-year spell without much effort on his part, it was obvious that he boasted an abnormally large magical core for his age.

Then, abiding by rationality, the process must be hard...so hard that Riddle would have had to spend the entire energy he accumulated over the month to just manage it once and even then, the results would be annoyingly inconclusive. Unpleasant, for both the participants.

And then there was the fact that the boy had a learning curve that rivaled Riddle's himself when he was at school, so, Harry was sufficiently proficient at mind magics as they had begun it nearly three weeks ago and hence, it was another obstacle.

Considering all of these proven facts, it was a wonder that Riddle was able to possess the boy. But Riddle could not only possess the boy at the moment, he could actually peruse the body for his own nefarious deeds for a considerable time. For all intents, that must be impossible. What a mystery, it was.

It was as though the boy's mind was essentially inviting Riddle to possess him, as though it had already made necessary preparation for such an event to take place. And then, there was the scar. The scar that radiated an aura completely similar to that of Riddle's. How was it possible?

It was unfortunate that the boy appeared to be a natural Occlumens too when he wanted to hide the things Riddle should never witness. So, he had no information to hold over the boy, except the few snippets of classes he had seen in the memories. Those were completely useless to determine any conclusion. Another factor could be that a Horcrux was far less powerful than a complete soul and hence, it was hard to delve deeper into the boy's mind without expending all of the diary's power.

So, apparently, Riddle had no idea about the boy he was possessing and wasn't that just ridiculous?

But the teaching experience over this span of the month was informative and in an odd way, it was fulfilling to watch the boy cross each hurdle he faced, with an enthusiasm of a freight train. Riddle himself was a good teacher if he could say so, and if he ever reached that pinnacle of power he was hoping to reach, he had plans to become a professor, and at Hogwarts itself, if fate had that in store for him.

But knowing Albus bloody Dumbledore, hell would freeze over and polar bears would immigrate before Riddle could become a professor. It was one of the things that annoyed Riddle to no extent. While the old coot proclaimed about parting second chances to people like they were lemon drops, Dumbledore was unshakeable when concerned with decisions he made, be them good or worse and one of such inferences that Dumbledore made was that Riddle was irredeemably evil. Not something a sixteen-year-old should realize or ever have the misfortune to learn that their own Professor considered them evil.

Riddle had no idea about what became of him in the future but considering that there was no Hogwarts professor went by the name of Riddle in the Future, his premonitions came true. What a waste.

Sixteen-year-old Riddle, for all purposes, was a cunning and murdering and thieving and essentially evil bastard but unlike what all-knowing Dumbledore had presumed, he was not irredeemable and certainly did not lose his enviable wits or doubtful sanity.

That was one of the reasons why the boy going by the name of Harry Potter still retained his free will and was not a drooling vegetable. For Riddle was curious…unimaginably curious to know what this prodigious wizard would achieve if given enough time.

If Riddle was allowed to hope, then the older Tom Riddle or Voldemort – if his plans came to fruition – would definitely be a master at Illusion magics and though Riddle himself acquired a devastating amount of knowledge about the forbidden arts during his pleasurable stay at Hogwarts, courtesy of the vast Hogwarts library and the rare books that Slytherin study boasted, he was definitely not whom someone would consider being proficient at Illusion magics.

So, it was unbelievably fun to see someone amble down this less traveled road and if time and destiny permitted, he might be fortunate enough to witness the true makings of a master of Reality Distortion.

But before all of it came to the point of unhampered occurrence, there were still some loopholes... _riddles,_ to be precise, to be solved. And the mystery surrounding the scar to be the most prominent of them at the moment.

For, after all, being a Horcrux himself, it was not terribly hard to identify a twin and oh, what a pleasant surprise it was when he ended upon that conclusion. A human Horcrux. Fascinating indeed.

It truly made Riddle wonder what tomfoolery his older self-had been up to. The stars must have been in a favorable position during the Horcrux ritual for him to stumble upon this magical masterpiece; A prodigious boy who was a Horcrux, aiming to become a master of illusions.

* * *

Harry leaned back in his chair, wondering how puzzling yet obvious everything seemed to be. Nicholas Flamel was an apprentice of some man named Ignotus? In fact, that was the only conclusion he reached after reading the excerpt and everything else would only make sense if he knew who the three brothers were and what ethereal entity the author was talking about.

But Invisibility cloak? Sorcerer's stone? Both of them were the objects he had contact with and the former was something he still possessed but was it the same invisibility cloak the man was talking about? Harry did try once or twice to test whether tracking charms work on the shimmering object, to find out how the headmaster was able to detect him when he went in search of the mirror, and to his bafflement, the charms had no effect on the cloak.

As far as he knew, the cloak was inherited from his father – As Dumbledore had mentioned – but he had no idea regarding who gave it to his father. Could it be a family heirloom that was passed down the generations? Was the Ignotus in the book an 'Ignotus Potter?'

Pocketing the diary, Harry left the chamber with an elated Hedwig in tow, to test whether the mirror could affect the cloak in some way. He would've peacefully made his way to his room if not for the bushy haired studious witch who was obstructing his way.

"Where have you been, Harry? You missed the defense class", Hermione placed her hands on her hips, with a stern expression on her face, emulating a certain head of the Gryffindor house.

"Not the first time I did", Harry answered nonchalantly as he sat down in an empty chair. "And as usual, I was practicing."

Harry expected Hermione to admonish him as usual but what he did not expect was her to deflate like a punctured tire as she sighed resignedly. Harry's eyebrows twitched in warning, his mind already backtracking as it sensed unavoidable peril, leaving Harry's scrawny but recovering body to fend off the knowledge crazy witch on its own.

"I won't be liking what you are about to say, will I?" Harry surreptitiously slid to the end of the seat, ready to bolt at the sign of danger.

Hermione nodded slowly, worrying Harry even more and when she began to bite her lip nervously, Harry lost his nerve. "God, Hermione! Don't scare me with that uncertain expression. That expression has no right to be on your face."

"Harry, you do understand how pathetic our defense professor is, right?" Hermione sat down in front of him on the sofa. Though she was a devotee of that pathological liar for the first few days, it didn't take her more than a week to accept that the teeth flashing bastard was an incorrigible fool and once she came on the track, the rest of the class followed. Now, a month had passed and people were still suffering at the hands of that imbecile.

Harry began skipping defense period after the first two classes, which usually resulted in an irate Minerva McGonagall and in turn another detention but, by now, Harry concluded that the detentions were far more knowledgeable than the class ever could be. Professor McGonagall made peace with the fact that Harry would suffer detentions for the entire year and to her consternation, that only made Harry happier than he already was. God bless the strict but generous witch.

"Yes, Hermione, I do. You will have to remember that I am aware of that since the beginning", Harry replied, still wondering about what bombshell he would have to face. "I don't understand how that universal truth is of any concern."

"So, the students were not very happy with the teaching".

Harry scoffed at the statement. Not very happy was a gross understatement. It was like saying that Hogwarts was a school. Yes, it's a school but that was not even considering the fact that they live in a freaking castle.

"Then some of the students complained to the Deputy headmistress and she said that she can't do anything for now as hiring a new defense professor is nearly impossible in the middle of a school year. Then one of them suggested that they could appoint one of the best students from each year to teach the other willing students of that year and she accepted!"

Hermione finished the explanation with a winning smile but the expression on Harry's face was anything but delighted. "Does this 'one of them', happens to be you by any chance, Hermione. Wait, let me rephrase it. Are you the one who suggested it and am I the one who is your bait?"

Hermione smiled sheepishly and that in itself sent alarming bells ringing in his head. "God, Hermione! How did you think that I will be able to teach any of the students from our year? Do you remember the annoying Slytherins? Or the Proud Ravenclaws? No way in hell they would accept to be taught by a Gryffindor. Hell, how on earth did Gilderoy accept it?"

Hermione gave a proud smirk that was as foreboding as Snape's ugly sneer. "Well, we said that it's dueling practice and he can be the supervisor of this event. He didn't take a second to accept."

The sound of Harry's palm smacking his face echoed in the Gryffindor common room. He would kill that moron someday. "But what about the other students? How did they even decide that I should be the one to teach?"

"I have no idea about the Slytherins. But Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students immediately accepted. Though they still don't know who is going to be selected from our year. I think there will be a dueling competition among the students to select the tutor. Well, I think that their need to learn something won over their reluctance."

"When did all of this happen?" Harry bemoaned as he thought about how tiring his day would become if this happened. Was hoping to practice without any disruptions a crime in here?

"Well, this entire operation started a week ago. You always run off to god knows where before I have the opportunity to talk with you", Hermione glared as she crossed her hands across her chest. She was fairly unhappy about his penchant for disappearance _and_ withholding secrets but she accepted after a time that it was simply his way of dealing with things. The fact that he began doing homework with her and joining her in the library had nothing to with it. Absolutely nothing.

"I knew it would come and bite me in the back someday", Harry pouted as he visibly sagged.

Hermione seemed to take pity on him as she rose from her seat to adjust with him on the chair. "Well, Professor McGonagall said that she would cancel your daily detentions if you accepted and Professor Snape agreed to overlook some of the dueling classes. He didn't seem happy about it, though."

The information about detentions actually made him sad as he was beginning to improve in Transfiguration, under the steady guidance of Professor McGonagall. At least the fact that the greasy-haired git was suffering along with him appeased him slightly. "Well, I'll think about it."

After discussing a few other things, Harry rose to his feet and nearly crawled over to his room while Hermione watched him with an amused smile on her face. Damn that girl and her brilliant ideas. Brilliant but harmful, exclusively for him.

Postponing his desire for experimenting on his cloak to another time, Harry slumped down his bed and made sure that none of his roommates were currently spying on him.

Opening his diary, he wrote in a lazy scrawl that bespoke of his exasperation. "Wrench in our plans."

" **Care to elaborate?"** came the slow response from the diary.

Harry frustratedly explained everything and after he finished, he gave the diary a minute to contemplate upon it.

" **What a golden opportunity!"**

"I don't follow". Harry nearly fell down the bed at that unexpected answer.

" **Oh, this is everything we had ever hoped for in one fragile package. Your luck has played its hand again, Harry."**

"Nope. Still clueless as a cupcake. You need to understand that everyone is not a scheming as you, Riddle", Harry wrote back with a tired sigh.

" **Indeed. But do you remember what our plan was before coming to Hogwarts?"**

"Yes", Harry furrowed his brows in thought, guessing what could be running through the mind of that devious megalomaniac. "To improve my relations with other students so that when the time comes, they won't hand me over like a lamb for slaughter."

Oh. The moment he wrote the words, everything clicked in his mind.

" **True. And what better opportunity to accomplish that, if not by tutoring the poor and deprived students of every house? They will be at your mercy for the entire time to mold their minds the way you like. It was one of the reasons why I thought of becoming a teacher. What sure fire way to deceive the students than by becoming a figure they will respect and follow? Your words will be their gospel, Harry. Sure, I agree that they might be reluctant to heed your words at the beginning but as the time progresses and they put their faith in you, you can exploit their belief in any way you desire. Oh, It's shaping up to be one fortuitous grand scheme and definitely one to our dear liking."**

'No wonder this boy went on to become the most feared dark lord of the century', Harry thought with a deadpan as he read the words. It had all the signs of a budding megalomaniac. Maybe that was how Dumbledore found about Riddle's intentions. One form to write about your future dreams and the boy would be filling up sheets with all the nefarious schemes he was plotting.

"I won't go so far to say that I will ruthlessly manipulate them but I am sure I can grasp your intentions. So, essentially, this is a rarely found shortcut to the secret dungeon we are hoping to reach."

" **I don't hope to understand what reference that was but, in short, yes. And for how many days will you keep firing spells at the Basilisk in the chamber? You will need real life experience, Harry. That is where most of the brilliant witches and wizards who pass out from Hogwarts fail and by the time they realize the horrors of this despicable world, it's a little too late and by then, they are broken beyond repair. This dueling experience will further improve your spells and finesse at casting. As I've said, a complete package. Oh, how I envy your current predicament."**

"You are jealous that we don't even have a proper professor to teach and that the faculty had to depend on students?"

" **Essentially, yes. But no. I would rather have a proper educator than a good opportunity."**

"I still wonder how that fool managed to write all those adventures without any skill to even pass the OWL's. Some of the events actually did happen to support his writings and there was no way anyone could dispute him on that topic."

" **Well, even I can write about the experiences of another person. But the events match, you say? So, either he had actually accomplished those, which is clearly impossible from how you described the moron, or those were the achievements of another person."**

"Then won't the other person sue Lockhart for bragging about the accomplishments of that other person?"

" **Logically, he should. But what if the person had no memories of what had actually happened? Then the truth is in the hands of any individual who can exploit it. Rumors spread fast, Harry, only to be lost with time. But Truth is set in stone."**

"You mean that..."

" **Yes. This Gilderoy Lockhart obliviated the people and then stole their memories to use them to his advantage. A fail proof plan, I must admit, if the wizard is proficient enough at that spell. But if anyone finds out about this secret, then, the man is, for all purposes, in the hands of the person who knows the secret. Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Harry?"**

"God, yes."

* * *

Gilderoy Lockhart was blissfully whistling as he signed the fan mail cluttered on his desk, feeling distinctly happy for surviving as long as he did at this school without any skills to boast. And now, they were essentially lifting the burden from his shoulder to place it in the responsible hands of the students. He might be able to manage here for a few years if this little venture was successful.

"Good Evening, Professor Lockhart."

Lockhart lifted his stare from the love proposal sent by a foolish girl to stare into the emerald green irises of the Boy Who Lived. "Harry! Here to help with this fan mail? Do not worry, I might consider this as a sufficient compensation for missing all those classes. Now come here..."

He was unable to finish as a moment later he was staring at the tip of a wand. "Harry", the professor's dazzling smile weakened considerably as his resolve broke in the face of a wand and sweat began to form on his face. "Let's not make any mistakes..."

Harry simply uttered one word in response. " _Legilimens!_ "

* * *

 **Author's Note: In the next chapter, you will see the first demonstration of Reality Distortion magic. Not the simple mirror trick.**

 **Now for the prolific reviewer, PaC (Guest): Your guess is correct! I absolutely adore your reviews and if they are that long, then I wonder how long your each chapter would be. Your musings are truly a fun read.**

 **So, what do you people think of the chapter? Opinions people. Review your thoughts, ideas, guesses, musings, questions (Yes, that's you avalynnelfe) or a simple, 'Awesome chapter!'**

 **Thank You!**


End file.
